


Emotions - Temporary States Of Mind

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Series: Short Storie Collections [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Aphasia, Autism, Brain Damage, Breakfast in Bed, Bullying, Bus Kids - Freeform, Childbirth, Depression, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Meetings, Fitz and a monkey, Fluff, Friendship, Gardens & Gardening, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hypersensitivity, Love Confessions, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Missing Scene, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Perthshire Cottage, Post-Episode: s01e22 Beginning of the End, Post-Episode: s05e14 The Devil Complex, Post-Framework Universe (Marvel), Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Pregnancy, Recovery, Season 6 Speculation, Self-Doubt, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death, Therapy, non graphic childbirth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 41,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: A collection of short stories.100 Themes Challenge. Topic: Emotions.Latest:Chapter 27: Fitz has a problem. He thinks he can't tell anyone. But when May asks him if he's fine, he decides to confide to her. (May & Fitz, sometime in season 5)Chapter 28: Daisy and Fitz talk to each other for the first times in weeks, when they can't sleep because of their nightmares. They aren't sure if they can ever be okay again. A little while later Fitz saves Daisy's life ... (Post Season 5, Daisy & Fitz)Chapter 29: When May returns to the base, everything is a mess. Her family is damaged in a way she never thought possible. She starts to pick up the pieces ... (Post s5e14, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, May & Team)Chapter 30: Mack comforts Fitz after a nightmare. (Mack & Fitz / Early Season Two)





	1. Information and keywords

This project will be a collection of short stories.  
Each chapter will be inspired by a keyword of the [100 Themes Challenge Writing Prompts](https://kathrineroid.wordpress.com/2011/09/25/100-themes-challenge-writing-prompts/) project.  
There are 100 keywords for 100 stories. The topic is emotions.  
After a keyword is used, it gets crossed out. _  
_

Here are the words:

1\. ~~Birth~~  
2\. Enthusiasm  
3\. Love  
4\. Hate  
5\. Triumph  
6\. Feel  
7\. ~~Wrecked~~  
8\. Soft  
9\. Cold  
10\. ~~Without~~  
11\. Inspiration  
12\. ~~You~~  
13\. ~~Confused~~  
14\. ~~Affection~~  
15\. Joy  
16\. Horror  
17\. ~~Acceptance~~  
18\. ~~Sympathy~~  
19\. ~~Holding~~  
20\. ~~Defeated~~  
21\. Pride  
22\. Knife  
23\. Overwhelmed  
24\. Depressed  
25\. Adoration  
26\. Worship  
27\. Zeal  
28\. ~~Light~~  
29\. Exhaustion  
30\. Obsession  
31\. Rage  
32\. Empty  
33\. ~~Anger~~  
34\. Fury  
35\. ~~Delight~~  
36\. Submission  
37\. Infatuation  
38\. ~~Anticipation~~  
39\. ~~Pessimistic~~  
40\. Jolly  
41\. Grasping  
42\. Agitation  
43\. Calm  
44\. Astonished  
45\. ~~Loneliness~~  
46\. Lust  
47\. ~~Longing~~  
48\. Tender  
49\. Hard  
50\. ~~Rebirth~~  
51\. Amused  
52\. ~~Broken~~  
53\. Abused  
54\. Tranquil  
55\. Composed  
56\. Glad  
57\. Stress  
58\. Serenity  
59\. Colorful  
60\. ~~Coping~~  
61\. Boisterous  
62\. Placid  
63\. ~~Tired~~  
64\. Bliss  
65\. ~~Neglect~~  
66\. ~~Fine~~  
67\. Question  
68\. Energetic  
69\. Noble  
70\. ~~Disgust~~  
71\. Lively  
72\. Power  
73\. Pity  
74\. Humiliation  
75\. Satisfied  
76\. ~~Thankful~~  
77\. Hyper  
78\. ~~Goosebumps~~  
79\. Worthless  
80\. Remorse  
81\. Degraded  
82\. Revenge  
83\. Fulfilled  
84\. ~~Shame~~  
85\. Graceful  
86\. Shining  
87\. Content  
88\. Feelings  
89\. Pleased  
90\. ~~Relief~~  
91\. I  
92\. Zest  
93\. Tears  
94\. ~~Building~~  
95\. Optimistic  
96\. Thrilled  
97\. ~~Dealing~~  
98\. Reflect  
99\. Embarrassment  
100\. Death

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


	2. Without (Fitz & The Team Early Season Two / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his injury, the silence is Fitz's permanent companion. He isolates himself from the others. But his subconscious in the form of Jemma urges him to finally take a step forward.

Silence. Silence is his constant companion now. It is comforting. Uncomplicated. Gentle.  
  
Not like words. They are difficult now. They are hidden somewhere inside him. Unwilling to come to the surface.  
  
But silence obeys him. It’s like a new form of control. And he uses it relieved.  
  
He puts his hand on the window pane. It is cool. Outside, the clouds are bathed in a soft cotton candy-pink. The sun will set soon. He is looking forward to see the stars.  
  
Earlier, in a time that seems like a dream to him now, he had looked at them with Simmons. Just like they had looked at the sunrises. And the sunsets. How many? Enough for memories. Memories which hurt now. Because she is gone. Simply gone …  
  
“Fitz?”  
  
He closes his eyes. Skye. Again. He wonders if she will ever give up. She’s standing there in the doorway, pushing herself into his protective cloak of seclusion and silence.  
  
She clears her throat. “You know that you can’t stay silent forever, right?”  
  
She’s wrong. He _can_. It’s easy to stay silent. Almost too easy. He just has to give up the words that don’t want to obey him anyway. He slowly runs his fingertips over the glass and lets the silence speak for him.  
  
At some point he hears her sighing softly. She is frustrated. Good. When people are frustrated, they lose their composure faster. Lose their focus. Become annoyed. And eventually they will want to get rid of their frustration and what triggers it. She will leave soon.  
  
_Go away Skye._

For a moment she's just standing there, breathing evenly. He starts to tap a nervous rhythm on the glass.

 _Go away Skye._ _Everybody always leaves._ _And I can understand it._ _Can understand why they can't bear to look at me._ _I can’t even look at myself in the mirror._  
  
“Well, I’m actually here to tell you that the others have planned a Lord of the Rings marathon. I never watched the movies and apparently that’s considered a sacrilege.”  
  
He can almost  hear her exaggerated eye rolling.  
  
“Anyway … We really would like to have you with us! There will be popcorn. And beer. Good beer. At least that’s what Coulson's saying.”  
  
Courtesy. Nothing but courtesy. Of course they have to ask him. But they don’t want to have him with them. Not really. He would just make them feel uncomfortable. And he can almost see it before his eyes … the uncertain looks and the half-hearted smiles. Pity and sadness. No.  
  
“So,” Skye says gently. “Will you join us?”  
  
He closes his eyes. He stays silent. And waits until she leaves.  
  
Her last words sound stifled. As if she's suppressing tears. “See you later, Fitz.”

*

“You know, you should go.”  
  
He groans and pushes his head deeper into his pillow. Jemma is sitting on the edge of his bed, once again. His subconscious, which has decided to torment him in her form. The irony …  
  
“They miss you, Fitz.”  
  
He snorts. Yeah sure. The cripple with brain damage? Hardly.  
  
“You are not a cripple,” Jemma says gently. “You know what the doctors are saying. You have to do your exercises regularly. Then you will get better . But Fitz … you’re standing still. You don’t come from the spot. You stand in your own way.”  
  
He closes his eyes. It’s true. Painfully true. He’s standing still. He Doesn’t progress. It is the fear that paralyses him. A fear he can’t even name. And that’s what makes it so bad.  
  
“You have to take the first step yourself, Fitz. Nobody else will do it for you. They are all approaching you. But you have to go to meet them. You have to _move_.”  
  
If it could just be that easy … In the beginning he had tried. Tried to talk and work. But the tools had  fallen from his trembling hands to the floor. The words had  slipped away from him. The pain that had gripped him as he tried to bring out the words while the others looked at him, waiting - with that mixture of pity and nervousness in their eyes that he HATES – had  been too strong. Then came the silence. And it was painless.  
  
But it is true, the future can’t be this. The future can’t consist of silence and immobility. He takes a deep breath. Then he gets up from the bed and takes a step towards the door.

*

When he enters the room, four heads turn to face him. Sky and Mack are sitting on the couch,.To his surprise, May and Coulson are there too. On the screen in front of them, Bilbo Baggins disappears in front of his birthday guests. Fitz almost turns on the spot, he feels exposed to so  many eyes. But he forces himself to stay and swallows hard. He crosses his arms over his chest nervously.  
  
“Fitz!” Skye finally calls. She jumps up and goes to him. “You took your time. We are in the middle of the first part. But I think you’ve already seen the movies anyway, right?”  
  
Fitz nods. He rubs absently over his upper arms and bites his lip. Skye grins and points to the couch. “Great. There can only be one unknowing person. Sit down, we saved a seat for you.”  
  
Fitz feels his face getting warm. They saved a seat for him. They expected him to come. Anxiety slowly gives way to a feeling of relief and pride. He did it. He made the first step. He follows Skye and sits down on the couch. Mack silently hands him the popcorn from the side. Coulson casually shoves a glass of lemonade over to him. And that’s just how he is … there. It doesn’t feel like he’s just being tolerated. It feels like … family. He knows the feeling from past times. It fills him with a warmth he didn’t remember in the  silence. And when Skye calls Frodo and Sam “dwarfs,” he makes the next step.  
  
“Ho … hobbits,” he says and everyone looks at him in surprise. He clears his throat. “It … they … they are hobbits.”  
  
He can see Jemma smiling at him from the door and he smiles back. The silence leaves him at that moment and it’s okay.


	3. Holding (FitzSimmons Early Season Two / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma doesn’t leave. She stays with Fitz. Every single agonizing moment.

Jemma doesn’t leave. She stays with Fitz. Every single agonizing moment.

She stays with him when he’s comatose for nine long days. She holds his cold hand and watches him breathe . People come into the room and tell her to sleep, to eat, to rest. But she doesn’t pay attention to them. Only when she nearly falls asleep on Fitz’s chest, is she persuaded  to take a nap. She doesn’t let them separate her from him. A second bed is brought into Fitz’s room. She sleeps with her hand on his arm.

She stays with him when he wakes up for the first time and blinks at the doctors around him in confusion. They ask him questions and don’t seem to be surprised, when he opens his mouth but not a single word comes out. “Aphasia,” they mumble soberly and make some notes. Aphasia. Jemma chokes back tears. She knows the word. Knows the meaning of it. Knows how this will affect him. She lays a hand on his and squeezes lightly. “We’ll go through this, Fitz. Trust me. Everything’s going to be all right.” He looks at her hand and swallows.

Jemma stays with him when he struggles for every single word and the speech therapist nods at him with a way too cheerful smile. It hurts her to see him like this. To see the sweat on his face while he’s searching for the right word desperately. To see him scratching his arms so hard  that angry red lines appear on his pale skin. To see him close his eyes in resignation when he doesn’t find the word. It hurts so much. But she stays.

She stays to show him that he’s not alone. To show him that she is there for him. To show him that this won’t change anything about their relationship. This is just another battle. And she’s going to help him to win it.

She stays with him when he drops a glass of water because his hands tremble too much. The glass shatters on the ground. They both stare at the glass shards and the small puddle of water on the floor. Fitz looks at his shaking hand. After a moment of silence, he starts to cry. She has never seen him crying like this before.  
  
It’s heartbreaking.  
  
Jemma holds him while he’s sobbing. Wetness soaks  her shirt. She rubs circles over his quavering back and closes her eyes. “It’s just a glass, Fitz," she says softly. “It’s okay.”  
  
“I am … am … weak," he says and grabs his hair with both hands. He pulls. Hard. “Use … useless. Crippled, useless … uh, _freak_ \- “  
  
“Fitz stop!” Jemma calls and shakes his shoulders. “You’re not weak or useless. This isn’t your fault. Ward did this to you. To _us_.”  
  
She sees how pain fills his eyes when she mentions Ward. But he finally stops pulling his hair. Instead, he starts rubbing his arms restlessly. “Jemma …”  
  
“You will get better, Fitz. I’m here to help you. We won’t let this win. We won’t let _him_ win.”  
  
“How … how can you …" He frowns and shakes his head. He closes his eyes, searching for the right words. She waits. She developed a completely new kind of patience since the accident. Finally, he says, “How can you … uh … even look at me?” He avoids her gaze. And he looks so vulnerable, so lost that it hurts Jemma deep inside. She draws in a deep breath. Then she says softly, “Because I love you, Fitz.” And that’s the truth.  
  
He stares at her, his eyes wide. His mouth opens and closes for a few times. “Jemma," he says again. “Jemma …”  
  
She smiles at him and pulls him into a hug. “I love you Leo Fitz. And no matter what, I’m staying with you.”  
  
He lays his head on her shoulder and whispers her name into her skin again and again. Like a prayer.

She stays with him when he finally leaves the hospital room. They move into his old room together. He gets better. Slowly, but steadily. After a few more days, when they lay in his bed, he manages to say “I love you too” without stuttering

She stays with him. No matter what.


	4. You (FitzSimmons First Meeting / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz is often asked how they met.
> 
> At the academy, he uses to answer then.  
> Nothing more.  
> Because those memories belong to him.
> 
> Memories that are as clear as if it happened yesterday.

Fitz is often asked how they met.

At the academy, he uses to answer then. Nothing more. Because those memories belong to him.

Memories that are as clear as if they happened yesterday.  
  
Jemma Simmons entered the room like a storm. There was a fire burning in her eyes and her lips were a thin, angry line. But - oh, she was beautiful. So beautiful. Even when he was lying on the ground of the classroom, surrounded by three of his usual bullies, his books scattered across the floor, he was blinded by her beauty and strength. She took his breath away.

“Stop it," she called and everyone looked at her, frowning. “Leave him alone!”

The leader of the group of bullies, James, grinned at her and rolled his broad shoulders. “Really, Jemma? You want to help the freak?” He chuckled.

She stopped in front of him and raised her chin. “I see only one freak in the room. And his name is James.“ She looked at James' friends, who seemed to be a bit uncomfortable by now. “Guys, do you know James? James seems to be desperate to get recognized. Apparently he wants to be some kind of celeb. Or maybe he’s just jealous …”

“Jealous?” James spit out. “Jealous of _this_?” He looked down at Fitz and grimaced. “Never.” He looked Jemma up and down and grinned smugly. “Hey, you’re quite pretty, you know. Just my type. Why don’t we stop this child play and go drink something, hm?”

She looked at him like he was a disgusting kind of insect and shook her head slowly. “No. I don’t think so. I usually don’t go out with someone who bullies people that are smarter like him in order to elevate his self-worth because he finds no better way to do it. I really wonder why you’re even here. Did your rich parents blackmail the director?”

James’ face turned into an alarming shade of red. His friends were chuckling behind his back. James glared at them and they immediately stopped. He looked back at Jemma and snarled, “You know what, you’re both freaks. I guess you would be happy together.”

“Maybe," Jemma answered calmly. Fitz couldn’t suppress a soft gasp. James snorted in disbelief. He shrugged and finally walked away. On his way he kicked one of Fitz’s books over the floor as a last provocation. Then he and his minions were gone. The door slammed shut behind them.

“Finally," Jemma said and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “The air in this room just got much better.”

Fitz couldn’t answer. He swallowed and quickly started to collect his books. His ears were burning.  
  
After a moment, Jemma helped him. They were silent. The only sound in the room the ticking of the clock on the wall. When every book was back in Fitz’s back, he stood up and swallowed. “Thanks”, he said without looking at her.

“You’re welcome. Have you problems with them often?” Jemma asked.

Fitz nodded and nervously fidgeted with his hands. “Yeah, well, they are just like every other bully.”

She looked at him with her bright, sparkling eyes and he felt how his face was getting warmer. He looked aside and cleared his throat. “I should … uh, I have class soon. I …”

She smiled. “I see.” She hesitated for a moment, then she reached a hand out to him. “We never properly introduced ourselves. I’m Jemma Simmons.”

He took her hand carefully. It was soft and warm. “Leopold Fitz.”

Her smile got even wider. He was confused. He didn’t understand why someone like Jemma Simmons would even speak to him. “I think we’re the youngest at this academy," she finally says and suddenly seems to be nervous herself. “Uhm … maybe we can, you know, like they call it … “hang out” sometime?” She cleared her throat and began to play with a strand of her hair.

He opened his mouth. And not a single word came out. He coughed and tried again. “I … okay. Yeah. Uh. Why not.”

“Great." She beamed at him and turned around quickly. For a moment he thought he’d seen her face blushing, but he wasn’t really sure. “Goodbye!”

And then she was gone as sudden as she had come. Fitz stood there frozen. What did just happen? The most beautiful girl at the academy just saved him from bullies then asked him to hang out with him. Did that really happen?

It did.

Just a few days later, they met in a park. And Fitz discovered that he could talk with her like he couldn’t talk with any other person. It almost seemed a little like … magic.


	5. Coping (FitzSimmons - Aquaphobia / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aquaphobia  
> = an abnormal fear of water, especially because of the possibility of drowning.

**Aquaphobia**  
an abnormal fear of water, especially because of the possibility of drowning.

*

“Fitz, it’s okay …”

“No it’s not.”

“You don’t want to go swimming, so what? We really don’t have to.”

He finally raised his head which he had hidden in his hands for the last few minutes and looked at her with wide open eyes. They were full of desperation. “Jemma. It’s not … it’s not normal to be afraid to go into water,” he said

“Stop, Fitz,” Jemma said sharply and touched his arm. “Everyone is afraid of something. I’m afraid of sharks. You know that. I know there’s no reason to be afraid of sharks. There are barely any accidents with them being involved. And they only attack when humans don’t behave properly in their territories and when they think humans for their prey. But … I’m still afraid there could be a shark in this …” She looked at the ocean in front of them with a longing glance, “really beautiful ocean that seems to have no end.” She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.

Fitz said nothing. He moved his toes through the warm sand and stared at the ocean, that really seemed to have no end.  
He swallowed.  
Water everywhere …  
darkness, the feeling of drowning, no oxygen, panic panic panic …  
He shook his head hastily to get the memories away from him.

Jemma looked at him questioningly. “Fitz?”

He sighed.  
He decided to tell her the truth.  
The truth about how bad his anxiety really was.  
So he said softly, “I … I wasn’t completely honest with you. I, uh, didn’t tell you that there’s more.”

“More?” She asked, frowning.

He sighed and rubbed his temples with his index fingers. “I’m not only afraid to go swimming in the ocean, Jemma. I’m also afraid to put my head under the water. A shower can be … it can be difficult for me, okay? I don’t take baths anymore. I just shower as quickly as I can.”  
He looked at her grimly.  
“I’m scared of water. Water. Great, right?”

“Oh Fitz,” she whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think that I’mbroken, or something like that,” he said and avoided her gaze.

“Fitz … I would never think that of you.” She hesitated. Then she said, “I don’t really like to be under water either, you know. Not since … since that thing happened. I still have nightmares about it. About the darkness and the rushing noise around us …”

“Jemma. Please … don’t,” he said, his eyes firmly closed.

“I’m sorry.” She stroked over his cheek with her hand.  
 He leaned into the comforting touch.  
“I just … I don’t want to be scared anymore. I'm tired of being scared,” he said quietly. One of his hands clenched into a fist.

Jemma thought about what he said for a moment. Then, she suddenly jumped up and took his hands.  
“Come on,” she said, smiling determidly.

He frowned but let her pull him on his feet.  
They walked over the sand, approaching the ocean.  

“Jemma,” he said quietly. He felt sweat building on his forehead. His stomach clenched more with every step.  
He swallowed. “What are you …”

“Do you trust me?” She asked him firmly.

He nodded. “I do,” he said softly. Honestly.

“Then come with me,” she said.  
She lead him a few more steps forward, until they were standing on wet sand.  
A little wave suddenly approached them.  
Fitz gasped in surprise, when cool water splashed over his toes.  
He closed his eyes and shuddered.  
Dark water everywhere …  
No air …  
Darkness …

“Fitz, open your eyes” Jemma’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.  
  
He looked at her, hopelessly . “Jemma, please …”

She squeezed his hands.  
“You said you are tired of being scared. Well, me too. We can beat this, Fitz. We already beat so much. This is just one more battle.”

He blinked at her. “Jemma …”

There were tears in her eyes. But she smiled at him. “We have two more weeks here. We will make good use of them. Every day, we will make a step more into the water. Together. We can do this.”

He draw in a shaking breath.  
“Are you sure?”

She nodded firmly.  
“Yes. And when we have beaten this, we will take a bath together. Because …” She raised her chin. “I’ve always dreamed about taking a bath together with you. I think it's romantic.” She blushed slightly.

Fitz smiled.  
“Oh Jemma. I love you so much …”

Water splashed over his toes again. But this time, the memories didn’t come. He concentrated on Jemma. Her wide open, sparkling eyes and her beautiful smile.  
He had no idea what he would do without her

She pulled him closer, until they were hugging and laid her head against his chest.  
“I love you too.” They stood there together as the sun set and the ocean was bathed into a warm orange light.


	6. Shame (FitzSimmons Post Framework / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz has nightmares about the framework. He doesn't dare to tell Jemma about them. But she begs him to not exclude her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished season 4!!!  
> And omg, the Framework part was so intense! My fiance and I couldn't stop watching.  
> It also was so disturbing?!  
> Of course I immediately had to write a story about it ^^
> 
> I'm still searching for a beta btw!

Jemma stares confused into the darkness.

The scream that woke her up reverberates in her head.

A loud, desperate scream.

Fitz.  
Again.  
The third night in a row.

She sighs and slowly sits up in bed. She feels for Fitz with one hand. She can hear him breathing irradically .  
"Fitz," she mumbles and finally finds his hand.

But when she touches him, he twitches back as if he had received an electric shock.  
"Don't," he says hoarsely. "Don't touch me…"

"Fitz," she says and feels tears in her eyes. She sighs. "I’m going to turn on the light, all right?"  
He doesn't answer her. But his breathing sounds pressed now.

She gets out of bed and shivers briefly as her bare feet touch the cool floor.  
She goes to the wall and presses the switch.

Fitz puts an arm over his face, moaning when the light from the ceiling lamp blinds him.

Jemma walks back to the bed and stops in front of it. She bites her lip. "Nightmare?"  
She says  the obvious.  
And normally, Fitz would have told her that.  
With a soft teasing in his voice.  
But now he presses his lips together and turns away from her.

Jemma looks at him. She sees his messy hair. Sees how his sweaty clothes are sticking to him. She swallows.  
"Bad?"

She sees how his body tenses.  
"I don't want to talk about it," he says barely audible.

Jemma feels worried and a little hurt at the same time. She crosses her arms in front of her chest.  
"Fitz ... you really have these nightmares very often. Why don't you ... it helps to talk about it, you know? Do you remember how it helped me? When I talked about ... about my time on the other planet? I talked to you. You were there for me. I want to do the same. I'm here for you now. So please Fitz, talk to me."  
Her voice grows increasingly louder as she speaks. She hardly notices it.

But she notices the tension leaves  Fitz's body.  
He clears his throat.  
And finally turns around to face her.  
She is startled when she sees the tears on his face.  
He was crying in silence.

"I can't, Jemma," he says softly. "I ... I just can't talk about it with you."

"Why not?"

"Because ..." He swallows hard. "I couldn't bear to see the horror in your eyes when I tell you, Jemma. The horror and the fear and ... and the understanding. When you finally  realise. When you realise who and what I am and ... "

"Fitz, stop it." She closes her eyes for a moment. There is so much pain in her that it feels like someone is cutting her heart out of her chest. "Stop it. We ... I already told you. That wasn't you. That was a ... a horrible copy of you. It was a nightmare. It was a nightmare for everyone. But we are back here now and ... "

"Mace is not here," he says bitterly.

Jemma shakes her head. "And that also wasn't your fault," she says firmly.

He snorts and presses a hand against his forehead.  
"That's all ... I can't stand it. I can't stand to see my face in the mirror in the morning, Jemma. I look into my eyes and I see him. The man who watched calmly while innocent inhumans were tortured. Who inflicted unbearable pain on these inhuman himself. The man who ... who shot a  woman without hesitation."

He looks at Jemma. His eyes are wide open and full of desperation.

"And he would have shot you too, Jemma. This man ... he was me. I have all the memories. I know how it felt. I know the thoughts he had. I know everything."

Fitz looks down at his hands. He shakes his head.  
"It would have been better if you had not taken me with you, you know. You should have left me there. So I could vanish  with this whole nightmare world ... "

The next moment Jemma is in front of him on the bed and wraps her arms around him. Presses him to her.  
"No," she whispers in his ear. "No. No. You are not him. You are a good man. AIDA has manipulated you. Please, Fitz. Talk to me about your dreams. I will never stop believing in you. I will never stop loving you ."  
She moves away from him slightly and takes his face in both hands. Looks him in the eye.  
"Talk to me, Fitz. Let me share your pain. If we share it, it will be easier. I promise. But don't exclude me. I ... you're the most important person in my life, Fitz. And that will never change. You are not a bad person. I will keep telling you this until you believe it yourself. Until these memories that are not yours fade. Until they doesn't hurt anymore. Oh, they will stay," she smiles bitterly. "My memories are still there. But they are now ... much more distant. And we do that with your memories as well. Trust me."

Fitz looks at her. There is so much in his eyes. Love and trust but also disbelief and fear.  
"Jemma," he says softly. "What have I done ... to deserve you."

She smiles, shakes her head and pulls him into her arms. He allows it. Lays her head on her shoulder and closes his eyes.

And then he begins to talk.  
About this nightmare and about the many others.  
There are tears. And pain.  
But in the end they suffer together.  
And together they put each other back together.


	7. Dealing (Post Framework / One Shot)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who finally started watching season 5!  
> Yup, I'm slowly catching up :D  
> Anyway, here is the new chapter. The framework episodes still haunt me, so it's about that again.  
> I hope you like it ^^

They look at him differently.  
Maybe it's not intended, maybe they don't notice it - but they do.  
He can understand it.  
  
The days pass in a slow rhythm. Always the same.  
Coulson calls it "recovery."  
For Fitz, it's more like a kind of extra torture.  
  
He remembers everything as if it had just been yesterday.  
He remembers how they all stood in a circle.  
Tired, exhausted, confused - caught in memories they shouldn't have.  
He remembers half suspicious, half pitying looks from all sides  
Remembers Coulson's words.  
"What the team needs now is recovery," he said, glaring at the broken glasses in his hands with a puzzled look. "Recovery and rest. At least for a few days."  
Nobody contradicted him.  
  
And now Fitz is sitting in his room on the bed and wonders if he's losing his mind.  
He hasn't eaten properly for days.  
Has hardly slept.  
What lurks in his dreams is worse than the exhaustion.  
He's only lying on the bed for hours anyway, staring at the ceiling.  
Now and then he goes the few steps from the bed to the bathroom. But he avoids looking in the mirror above the sink. He fears what he might see in his eyes.  
  
Sometimes Jemma comes into the room.  
They sleep seperately again.  
It's for the best.  
She's safe. Just in case.  
She tries to talk to him.  
Try to maintain the appearance of normalcy.  
She doesn't succeed.  
And usually she leaves quickly.  
  
On one of those days, when Jemma storms out of the room with tears in her eyes, he makes a decision.  


*

He knocks at Coulson's door.  
  
Coulson seems surprised to see him.  
"Fitz. Is everything alright?"  
  
No. Nothing is alright.  
Fitz swallows and says, "I think I need a break, sir. A real break. If you allow it."  
  
Coulson looks at him silently for a moment. Then he nods. "I understand. What do you need?"  
  
Fitz rubs restlessly over his right forearm.  
"Uh, a flight to Scotland."  
  
Coulson raises an eyebrow. " _One_ plane ticket?"  
  
Fitz swallows.  
He looks to the side.  
"Simmons ... Jemma won't come with me."  
  
Coulson's look softens. "Are you sure about that?"  
  
He nods. "She has done enough. Has gone through enough."  
  
"Maybe she should decide that for herself," Coulson says cautiously.  
  
"No. I decided to go alone. I _need_ to go alone. I deserve it. I ... I put her in danger. I held a gun to her head." The thought alone makes him feel sick. "If I had pulled the trigger ..." He closes his eyes. "She didn't deserve any of that."  
  
"This world wasn't real, Fitz," Coulson says, sighing. "We all did terrible things ... lived a life that wasn't our own. That was not us. They were copies."  
  
"But no one else shot a woman or ordered an air raid killing Jeffrey Mace," Fitz says soberly. "All of you ... the whole team. You somehow knew or realized that it's not real. Everyone ... everyone but me." He feels tears in his eyes once again and blinks them away angrily. "What does that make of me?"  
  
Coulson looks at him openly. "A kind-hearted man with a lot of empathy who had to go through too much," he says softly.  
  
Fitz can only look at him speechless.  
  
"I'm sorry," Coulson says gently. Then he sighs and reaches for his phone. "I'll order you the plane ticket."  
  
"Thanks sir."  
  
Fitz turns and walks to the door slowly.  
  
"Fitz," Coulson suddenly says behind him.  
  
He stops. "Yes, sir?"  
  
"You should know that you can always come back. There is a place in the team for you. Don't forget that."  
  
Fitz closes his eyes for a moment.  
Although he has the feeling that something is different now, irrevocably different, Coulson's words give him a warm sense of secureness.  
"Thanks sir."  
  
And then he leaves.  
  
*

He packs his suitcase slowly.  
It's as if every movement makes him more tired.  
  
"You're packing?"  
  
Fitz freezes. He turns and sees Jemma standing in the doorway. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest. Her face is pale.  
He swallows.  
"Yes."  
  
She nods.  
"So it's true. You're leaving."  
  
"Jemma ..."  
  
"I didn't want to believe it at first. But now ... " She shakes her head and enters the room. Her eyes are fixed on the open suitcase.  
"Are you going to Scotland, to your mother?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He watches as she wipes a strand of hair from her face.  
She looks tired.  
But she is beautiful as always. Beautiful, strong and kind.  
Fitz wonders if she sees this as a sign of weakness. As an escape. But he knows better. Jemma understands him as no one else does.  
  
And the next moment she looks at him as if she has read his mind and says softly, "That's ... it's fine, Fitz. I think that some distance is a good idea."  
  
He nods silently.  
  
She goes to him and slowly takes his hands into hers.  
"How are you feeling now?" She asks softly.  
  
He closes his eyes. "I am tired. I am always tired but I can barely sleep. I feel so exhausted like never before in my life."  
He opens his eyes again and takes a deep breath.  
"Jemma ... I don't know how much more I can take. I need ... I have to go. And I don't know if I can come back."  
  
Jemma nods. There are tears in her eyes.  
"Then I will come with you," she says softly.  
  
"Jemma ... no."  
  
"Yes. We stay together. I will not let you go through this alone. I love you."  
She pulls him into a hug.  
  
Her words are so open and true that it hurts him. He drops his head on her shoulder and closes his eyes. "Jemma ..."  
  
She holds him tight and they cry together.  
  
*  
  
Jemma holds his hand on the flight.  
Even as she falls asleep and her head sinks slowly onto his shoulder, she doesn't let go.  
  
Fitz looks at the clouds outside the window.  
It feels good to move forward.  
To leave something behind.  
It's right.  
  
*  
  
His mother opens the door and immediately draws him into her arms.  
"Leo!"  
  
He lets himself sink into her embrace and closes his eyes.  
"Mum ..."  
  
He feels how Jemma puts a hand on his shoulder from behind.  
  
This is  reality.  
The only reality that counts.


	8. Loneliness (Episode: Rewind / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Fitz is in prison, alone with his thoughts and fears, The Doctor appears - in person. (season 5/episode 5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched the fifth episode of s5 yesterday and it was sooo good.  
> I loved to see Hunter again!  
> Anyway, the episode inspired me to write this ficlet, I hope you like it!  
> Kudos and comments are very appreciated <3

They didn't leave him behind on purpose.  
  
That's what Fitz keeps telling himself while he's sitting alone in his dim cell, staring at the wall opposite.  
  
They didn't mean to leave him behind on purpose.  
  
He knows it.  
The team ... That's not what his  team is like.  
It's everybody or nobody.  
They made that more than clear to him after the Framework.  
They would have taken him with them if they had had the choice.  
Someone  - or something? – had  kidnapped them.  
And decided to leave him behind.  
Alone.

He closes his eyes.  
They come up again ...  
The memories of the Framework.  
The memories of the people he hurt.  
Memories of screams and pleading  ...  
  
"You know, they left you behind because they can't stand the sight of you anymore."  
The voice comes from the wall opposite.  
It's cold and calm.  
It's familiar.  
  
_No ..._  
  
Fitz opens his eyes.  
And sees _him._  
The Doctor is standing in the cell. Leaning back against the wall. A thin smile on his face.  
  
Fitz stares at the ghost in front of him with his mouth open. The ghost who wears his own face.  
That ... it can't be.  
It has to be a dream.  
  
"Oh, this is  not a dream," The Doctor says calmly. He regards Fitz with mild interest. As if he is an insect under a  microscope.  
"This is just the first phase of a process."  
  
Fitz can only stare at him.  
Everything in him feels numb.  
There is a rushing sound in his ears that gets louder and louder.  
"No," he whispers. "No. That's ... it's ... uh ... not possible ..."

The Doctor's lips twist into a smug smile. "Oh. Are we having trouble finding words again?" He grimaces and snaps his fingers in a cruel parody of Fitz shortly after the accident. " _Ah ... what word was it ... uh ..._ God." He runs a hand through his straightened hair and laughs. "Pathetic."  
  
Fitz feels sweat running from his neck down his spine.  
He shakes his head slowly, dazedly.  
It can only be a nightmare ... he will wake up.  
It's only a matter of time.  
He will -  
  
"So they left you behind," The Doctor says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh well. It was predictable ..."  
  
"They didn't leave me behind," Fitz says, though he should know better than to speak with a hallucination. "They ... I guess they had no choice."  
  
The Doctor raises an eyebrow. "I have another theory. A better one. They don't trust you anymore. You don't fit into their ridiculous little group anymore. We don't belong to them. They can feel it when you are near them. They feel that you are different. They wanted to get rid of you. The anomaly in their midst." He smiles narrowly. "The black sheep."  
  
"That's not true," Fitz says, shaking his head. "The Framework ... it has changed us all. Made us do things. Gave us wrong memories. It was not ... not real."  
  
That's the truth.  
He has to cling to it.  
It was not real.  
Not. Real.  
Not -  
  
"You are weak," The Doctor says curtly. It doesn't even sound like an insult or a reproach. It sounds like a statement. "Weak and naive. All the lies you keep telling yourself ..." He laughs. Fitz flinches.  
"You think you've built yourself a nice little family, right? The family you never had? Touching."  
The Doctor snorts and crosses his arms over his chest.  
"They don't want you. Not after what we did. You remember what it was like, huh? Remember what it was like to shoot that woman ..."  
  
"No," Fitz murmurs, shaking his head. "No ..."  
  
The Doctor tilts his head. "You liked it. _We_ liked it. It was ... satisfying."  
  
"Stop it," Fitz says. He is breathing heavily now. He presses a hand against his forehead. " _Stop_ _it_ …"  
  
The Doctor sighs. "You will never get out of here. But I will. I know what needs to be done." He raises his chin and smiles arrogantly. "I don't get distracted with meaningless, sentimental thoughts about so-called friends and their motivations. For me, all that counts are the facts. And the fact is that they left you like garbage. Garbage that needs to be disposed of."  
  
"Go away," Fitz says dully y. His hands clench together. The words of the hallucination pierce his heart and ignite a dangerous pain. _Lies_ , he tells himself. _Those are lies. And they are coming from the feelings of doubt in your subconscious._  
  
The Doctor doesn't stop talking. He's pacing up and down now, a determined smile on his cold face. "When we unite, everything will get easier. Just let it happen. Let me take control. Then you can finally disappear behind your cloak of self-lies and self-doubt that you seem to love so much ..."  
  
"Never," Fitz says. "You are not me. You are a fragment of my imagination. Hallucinations are not new to me, you know."  
He closes his eyes. The memories of the Jemma that he created as an illusion are still painfully familiar.  
"Hallucinations are fleeting. _You_ are fleeting. You will disappear. Back to the dark part of my memory, where you came from."  
  
"Just keep lying to yourself," The Doctor says, grinning in amusement. "It's admittedly very entertaining. Go ahead. As long as you still can. Until phase two starts."  
  
And then, in the blink of an eye, he's gone.  
  
Fitz stares at the wall opposite with wide open eyes, pressing a hand on his mouth.  
_Oh God …_  
The next moment he vomits on the ground.

This night passes sleepless.  
The thoughts in Fitz's head are restless.  
He has to find a way out of here.  
Before ... before something like this happens again.  
What if he's really in the middle of a process.  
A process that's unstoppable.  
What if it is the process of him losing his mind?  
  
The next morning, Fitz has an idea.  
  
It includes soccer, a magazine - and Lance Hunter.


	9. Delight (FitzSimmons & a monkey / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma has an idea for Fitz's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised to write some fluff too, so here is it <:  
> I couldn't write something angsty anyway - not after watching episode 14 of season 5 ...  
> It was ... disturbing. And sad. And so angsty. But also so well acted!

 “Jemma …”

“I know, Fitz. Don’t move.”

“Jemma … he is … I …”

“I bet he is fluffy, isn't he?”

“Yeah. He _is_ fluffy … did you take a picture?”

“I have like 100 pictures now, love”, Jemma says and immediately takes another one, chuckling. “I think we could fill a whole album just with them.”

She smiles brightly when Fitz slowly, carefully turns his head to look at her. His eyes are sparkling. There is an expression of pure bliss on his face.  
The squirrel monkey sitting on his shoulder munches a piece of bread with obvious pleasure and has one of his tiny hands in Fitz’s curly hair.

“This”, Fitz says breathlessly. “This is the best day ever.”  
The next moment he seems to realise something and quickly says, “Beside the day I met you, of course.”

Jemma laughs and congratulates herself for having the idea to bring Fitz to a park where he could feed monkeys.  
She assumes that this birthday present is going to be pretty hard to top.

The monkey keeps sitting on Fitz’s shoulder, who doesn’t dare to move and sometimes even holds his breath.

Jemma observes him, smiling, and waits patiently.  
She wouldn't mind standing here for the rest of the day. As long as this makes him happy.  
He deserves to be happy. He deserves to have some new,  happy memories.  
After all the things that happened to him.  
He deserves it.  
  
What he doesn’t deserve though is that the monkey pees on him right before he jumps away squeaking - but all they can do is laugh about it until their stomachs begin to hurt.

*

Later, when they're lying on the  bed in a hotel room, Fitz snuggles up to her and takes one of her hands in his.  
"Thank you, Jemma," he whispers into her ear. "Thanks for ... for ... _everything_."  
She doesn't answer. She just smiles and gives him a soft kiss on his forehead.  
She knows what he means.

It's silent for a few minutes.

The only sounds are Fitz's even breaths and the steady ticking of the clock on the wall.  
It’s unfamiliar,to lay here without anything to do. Without a problem that needs to be solved in just a few hours. Without the team asking urgent questions. Without sudden dangers or barely prepared missions.

It’s unfamiliar – but nice.

Fitz starts snoring softly.  
She looks at him, at his relaxed, peaceful face, and her heart is so full of love for him that it almost hurts.  
"I love you, Fitz," she whispers and gently runs her fingers through his hair. "I hope you'll dream of the monkeys. I hope you can replace some of the dark memories with the new, nice ones. Sleep well."

She yawns and soon falls asleep too, with her hand on Fitz's chest.

* * *

Bonus:  
The picture of a squirrel monkey, because they are so unbelievable cute :3

[Squirrel Monkey](https://pixabay.com/de/totenkopf%C3%A4ffchen-affe-%C3%A4ffchen-1438533/)


	10. Tired (FitzSimmons Post Devil Complex / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemmas nights are restless without Fitz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plays at some point after e14 or e15 I guess.  
> I'm really tired. I think I made more mistakes than usually. Some sentences were hard to translate.  
> Please, if you see some, don't hesitate to tell me.  
> I would be grateful.  
> Thanks <3

It's Sunday.  
It has been a restless night.  
Not just for her.  
Jemma heard the bed in the room next to her creak often enough to know, that Daisy didn’t sleep much too.

She sighs and washes her face in the bathroom.  
When she looks in the mirror, she asks herself, how they will ever sort this mess out.  
With every day, they come closer to the end of everything. She knows deep down that they have to face this together.  
But at the moment it feels, like their team is falling apart. It hurts.

Later, she brings Fitz a cup of tea, a sandwich and a biscuit, which she had saved from Deke.

As she walks the familiar route, she imagines how she'll tell him.  
How she will tell him that she misses him. That she misses his warmth. That she misses his arms around her. That she misses talking to him until they fall asleep. That she misses to wake up next to him.

But when she sees him, she forgets all the words again.  
They give way to a sharp pain that is new yet somehow familiar. As if it was an old companion who has decided to return to her.

Fitz is sitting on the bed, his head buried in his hands. Jemma can see them shaking slightly, like they have done after his injury.  
She swallows.  
He looks so small.

Fitz flinches, when she opens the door. He raises his head slowly and looks at her blinking.  
"Jemma?" It sounds like a question and the pain inside her gets even stronger.

She forces herself to smile and hopes it doesn’t look like a grimace.  
"Good morning, Fitz."  
She puts her tray on the table and sits down.

Fitz stares at her. He makes no move to get up.

When she looks at him questioningly, he murmurs, "I'm not hungry."

Jemma shakes her head and sighs. "Fitz, you have to eat something. You already barely ate anything yesterday ..."

He looks aside and closes his eyes. "It doesn't matter," he says barely audible.

Jemma sits at the table for a moment longer. Then she gets up and goes to him. When she sits down next to him on the bed, he winces.  
"Jemma ..."  
He looks at her and there is something pleading in his eyes.

She shakes her head and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me what I can do to help you," she whispers.

His eyes move over her face. He raises a hand as if to touch her, then drops it again. Instead he starts to play with the ring on his finger nervously.  
"I don’t know," he finally says. "I really don’t know, Jemma."

Jemma nods slowly. "I’m going to find out."

The hint of a smile appears on his face. But the next moment he flinches and presses a hand against his forehead, groaning.

"Do you hear _him_?" Jemma asks softly. Her hand paints circles on Fitz's back.

"Yes."

"What does he say?"

"Horrible things," Fitz mumbles and lowers his head. "But you make him quieter."  
He sighs. "I haven’t slept all night …"

"Me neither," Jemma says. She thinks for a moment. "Lay down," she says.  
He swallows and lays down on his side.  
She slides behind him and wraps both arms around his chest. He is warm. It's the warmth she missed. She can feel him shaking slightly. His body is tense.  
Inwardly she promises to not leave him alone again. She doesn't want to imagine what the voice in his head is telling him.  
She doesn't mind sleeping in a cell. Not when Fitz's there.

Suddenly, she remembers something and smiles.  
"Do you remember how we were once locked in the library?" She asks him.

He nods and some of the tension disappears from his body. "Yeah ... most of all I remember that it was cold."

"Incredibly cold."

" _Unbearable_ cold."

"And we lay down on this sofa."

"Without blankets."

"Yes. We lay there ... just like we are lying here now."

"It was the most rational thing to do. And you were talking non-stop. About some chemical processes ... "

"I was nervous, Fitz!"

"Hmm. Jemma ... "

"Yes?"

"Could you ... do you mind ..."

"Do you want me to talk for a while? Like back then?”

"Please.”

"Okay."

And after a moment's thought she starts talking about electrolysis. She talks a long time. She feels his body relax more and more in her arms. His breath slows down. When she arrives at the natural territorial behavior of gorillas, he falls asleep. He snores softly.

She smiles and hopes that his sleep is peaceful. For a while, she's trying to stay awake, just to be able to watch him.  
_This is the man I love_ , she thinks sleepily.  
_And Daisy is my best friend. I love her too._  
_Maybe love will be the answer. Maybe ... Somehow._  
Jemma yawns and closes her eyes. She inhales Fitz's familiar smell, listens to his even breaths, and after a few minutes falls asleep herself.


	11. Pessimistic (FitzSimmons Post Devil Complex / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The world is ending, we're caught in a time loop, Coulson's dying, Daisy hates me and I'm going mad," Fitz says matter of factly. "I guess it can't get any worse."
> 
> "It can always get worse," Jemma says, leaning her head against the cool glass that separates them, closing her eyes. "Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, this turned out way more depressing than I intended it to be O_o  
> Anyway, have fun!  
> (Missing scene for s5 e16, I guess)

“The world is ending, we’re caught in a time loop, Coulson’s dying, Daisy hates me and I’m going mad,” Fitz says matter of factly. “I guess it can’t get any worse.”

“It can always get worse,” Jemma says, leaning her head against the cool glass that separates them, closing her eyes. “Always.”

Fitz looks at her from where he’s sitting on the bed. He looks at her beautiful, sad face. He hates that he can’t go to her. That he can’t take her in his arms and tell her that everything is going to be alright. He knows that it  would be a lie anyway – but at least the lie would be accompanied by her warmth, a glimpse of shared hope and – hopefully - trust.

But he has no right to complain.  
It’s his fault.  
It’s his fault that he’s trapped in here and Jemma is alone on the other side.  
  
Daisy did the right thing.  
She did it to protect the people around them.  
He doesn’t want to imagine, what he could do to the others if … if something like _this_ happens again.

 _I had the solution_ ; the voice of The Doctor says in his head. Arrogantly. Full of toxic self-satisfaction. _I had the solution for your problem and I would escape from this poor excuse of a cell in one minute. You have no idea what I’m capable of. What we are capable of. All you can see is your world full of self-pity and self-hatred. You're weak and you won't be able to protect her anyway. I could show you how to be strong again. A strong and worthy man – like it was your father’s wish …_

Fitz groans and presses his hands against his head. “Shut up,” he murmurs, pressing his teeth together. “Just shut up …”

“Fitz?”, Jemma asks and sounds alarmed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he hurries to say, and tries  to smile at her.    
_Get a grip you idiot._  
_You just make her even more scared and worried._  
“It’s just … I have a headache.”

“Oh Fitz,” she sighs. Suddenly, she bangs a loose fist against the glass. It’s just a light punch, but he flinches anyway. “I wish I could make this glass disappear.” She chews on her lip and shakes her head. “Daisy has no right …”

“Daisy has every right,” Fitz whispers.  

It seems like Jemma doesn’t know what to say to that.  
They stare at each other and there are a lot of words Fitz wants to say – but he can’t.

 _I want you to be safe._  
_And it’s strange … I can’t protect you from here but somehow, I can do it anyway._  
_I’m torn, Jemma._  
_I don’t know what’s happening to me._  
_What if this other side you’ve seen of me takes control once more and hurts you?_  
_What if I vanish and all that remains is him?_  
_I’m scared, Jemma._  
_Not for me. Only for you._

He doesn’t say any of this. He just looks at her and hopes that he still deserves her love.

Finally, she swallows and says, “I need to find Deke. I have to … to ask him something.”

“Okay,” he says softly, nodding.

She steps back. Her hand lingers on the glass for a moment longer, as if she doesn’t want to let go. But finally she leaves with a sigh and slow, heavy steps.

He looks after her until she disappears in the shadows.

_I want you to be safe._


	12. Defeated (Short Series - Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they manage to save humanitiy, Fitz reaches his breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Sorry O_o  
> This story wanted to be written.  
> Please note that this chapter contains suicidal behaviour and thoughts! (But there's a happy ending)

"It's over," Jemma says in disbelief.  "I can't believe it's over and we all survived."

"Yeah," Mack says, rubbing the back of his head and grimaces.  "It almost went too smoothly. I'm no longer used to plans that work perfectly."  


Jemma smiles at him and turns to Fitz, who is leaning against the wall a few feet away.  A thin trickle of blood from a cut on his forehead runs over his face and Jemma makes a mental note to bandage him as soon as they are back on the Bus.  But the next moment she also notices the gun that Fitz is holding in his hand.  He stares at it.  Competely focused.

"Fitz?" Jemma asks, frowning.

Mack looks at Fitz too now and sees the weapon.  He swallows.  
"This is not an Icer, Simmons," he murmers.

"I know," Jemma replies.  Her stomach contracts and she feels a first hint of worry.  Something is wrong.  She can sense it.

"Fitz," she says again, this time more emphatically and finally he turns to her, his face expressionless.  
  
"We did it?" he asks.  "Did change the timeline and save the world?"

"Yes," Jemma says, forcing herself to smile, despite the worry that is increasing and threatens to take her breath away.  "Yes, we did it."

"Good," Fitz says quietly and nods.

And then, in one smooth movement, he raises the gun and presses it against his temple.  


"FITZ!" Jemma and Mack scream at the same time.   
Mack makes a hasty step forward and Fitz backs away from him, the gun firmly gripped.  "Don't," he says.  It sounds resigned and tired.  "Don't come closer."

Mack stops and raises both hands.  "Turbo ..."

"What are you doing, Fitz?" Jemma asks breathlessly and involuntarily reaches out a hand for him.  "What …"

He looks at her, so lost and at the same time so hopelessly longing, that it hurts her deep inside.  
"I'm the last problem, Jemma," he says matter-of-factly, pressing the pistol harder against his temple.

She sees his finger tremble on the trigger and feels her throat squeezing in fear.  
"What do you mean with that, Fitz?" She asks as calmly as she can.  After a moment's hesitation she takes a small step towards him.  Mack behind her inhales sharply.

"You know exactly what I mean.  What do you think, how long it will take until I hurt someone again?" he asks and blinks repeatedly.  "How far am I to lose control?  I'm a ticking time bomb, Jemma. I'm not getting any better. I'm only getting worse.  I pulled myself together as long as we had to save the world.  But now ... ", he lets out a sound that resembles a whimper and Jemma's heart breaks for him.  
"All the time, I hear that voice in my head, Jemma.  _His_ voice.  And you know what, I don't have the strength anymore to fight back," he says.  "But I still have the strength to finish it.  The strength to protect the team ... to protect _you_."  
His finger tightens more around the trigger and Jemma closes her eyes for a moment.  When she opens them again she sees him suddenly looking past her and Mack.  He stares into the void, mouth open and slightly moving.  She can imagine what he sees and it tears her apart.  What does the hallucination tell him? Does it tell him to do it?  To finally pull the trigger?

"Don't listen to him, Fitz," Jemma says desperately.  "Listen to _me_."

Fitz's eyes twitch back to her. He's breathing heavily. Beads of sweat run over his face.    


She swallows.  
"We ... we can do it, yes?  Together.  We could finally catch up on our honeymoon," she says, smiling weakly. A tear runs down her cheek to her chin.  "We just need some time, right?  We will take our time.  Let me help you, Fitz.  Trust me."

But Fitz shakes his head.  She sees now that he is crying, too.  His hand trembles more and more.  Carefully, she takes another step towards him.  
"I can't, Jemma.  I ... I see these pictures in my dreams.  I'll hurt you," he says dully.  Convinced.  "I will hurt you and I can't ... I can't live with the thought that there is something in me that you have to fear.  I can't ... it's pointless Jemma.  You are all better off without me.  I just make sure that you don't have to worry anymore, don't you understand?  You have the team ... you will always have the team.  They are your family now, Jemma. They will care for you."

Jemma shakes her head.  "I need _you_ , Fitz," she says, tears starting to blur her vision.  "Only you.  I need my husband.  I need the love of my life.  We swore we would never leave each other's side again, remember?"

She is almost right in front of him now.  If she reached out, she could touch him.  But there is still the trembling finger on the trigger.  
She swallows.  
"Give me the gun, love," she says, slowly stretching out a shaking hand.  "Please."

He looks at her hand. Jemma sees how his grip on the weapon barely noticeably relaxes and she feels the first hint of hope.

She takes a deep breath. Tries to let her voice sound firm and sure.  
"Trust me, Fitz.  Give me the gun."

He looks from her hand into her eyes.  She returns his gaze and puts all her love for him into the one word she says now,  " _Please_."

Fitz sighs.  He closes his eyes. After a second, he opens them again.  Slowly, as if every movement causes him pain, he drops the weapon and hesitantly hands it to Jemma.

Jemma takes it without taking his eyes off him and hands it on to Mack, who literally rips it out of her hand and then steps back again.

Fitz looks down at his trembling hands.  His eyes are wide open and full of tears.  
"Jemma," he whispers.  
Then his legs give way beneath him and he falls.  
But he doesn't reach the ground.  Jemma catches him before.  
They sink to their knees together and Jemma wraps his arms around him, pulling him close to her body, covering his face with kisses.  
"Fitz," she mumbles in tears.  "God ... oh god. _Fitz_."  
She feels his whole body start to tremble. He's shaken by deep sobs.  
She holds him while he is crying.  
She holds him tight.

*

"Everything is prepared," Coulson says.  He hands her a folder.  "A cottage in Perthshire.  Quite secluded.  There are only a few people living in the nearby village."

"Thank you, Sir," Jemma says, taking the folder.  She presses it against her chest and swallows.  "Thank you for everything."

Coulson looks at her, an expression on his face she can't quite interpret.  
"I'm sorry," he finally says.  Only that.

Jemma nods.  She bites her lip.

"How is he?" Coulson finally asks calmly.

"He's sleeping.  I gave him a sedative.  He needs the rest," Jemma says.  She shudders as the memories come up again.  Memories of his shaking finger on the trigger.  The feeling that he was finally slipping away from her.  As if her worst nightmare had become reality.

Coulson nods and looks at her thoughtfully.  Finally, he gives her a card.  "That's the number of the therapist I suggested.  I know her. She's good.  I phoned her a few hours ago.  So she knows."

"Thank you."

Coulson puts a warm hand on her shoulder and smiles.  "There will always be place for you two in the team, don't forget that.  If you ever want to come back, if you need something, or if you just found a good diner, you know how to reach us," he says softly.

Jemma feels tears in her eyes and swallows.  "Okay," she says stifled.  


The next moment, Coulson pulls her into his arms and hugs her tight.  She closes her eyes and allows the hug.  It's more than welcome.  
"See you soon," he says.  It sounds like a promise.  She knows that he is serious.  
They are not just a team. They  are a family.

But she has to go this way with Fitz alone.  
She knows that it's going to be difficult. And painful.  
But as long as they are together, they can do it.

 

The steps you take don't need to be big. They just need to take you in the right direction.


	13. Rebirth (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Fitz start the slow, painful process of healing (Sequel to chapter 12: "Defeated")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to chapter 12. Because it wasn't enough pain ^^  
> Warning for mentions of suicidal behaviour and depression.  
> I thought it would be a nice parallel: the process of healing and the process of growing a garden :)  
> I hope you enjoy <3

It's silent.  
Sometimes too silent.  
There are days when she flinches with every sound from outside.   
Breathlessly, she reaches for an invisible weapon then.  
Ducks involuntarily. Closes her eyes.  
Waits for the shot, the explosion, the ... nothing.  
There's nothing to fear.  
No violence. No sudden dangers. No villains with new, scary superpowers.

 _That_ , she remembers herself again and again, _that part of your life is over._

 _Is it? Really?_   A quiet voice inside her head asks.  
Silent doubt that never leaves her completely.

 _Yes_ , she replies defiantly and gets to work.  
It's a new kind of work. A work she's unfamiliar with.  
It's a welcome distraction.

The cottage has a small garden and Jemma was delighted to discover on the first day that there are not only tomatoes, but also raspberries, strawberries, even red currants. None of the plants were in good condition. The earth was full of weeds and the few flowers looked as tired as she felt herself.  
She felt that there was something to do here.  
That something could develop here.  
Progress instead of regression.

And after a moment of hesitation, Jemma Simmons had put on gardening gloves for the first time in her life and gone to work.

*

After Dr. Reid first had seen Jemma in the garden, she brought her a whole stack of books about gardening.  
"I used to be a hobby gardener myself", she had said and smiled.

The therapist became an integral part of Jemma's everyday life after a few days.  
She came with her car and stayed for an hour.  
She always had that calm smile on her face.  
And she radiated a certain kind of patience and calmness that was alien to Jemma and yet filled her with so much trust.

"Plants are wonderful beings," Dr. Reid said, as she watched Jemma gently prop up a plant with wooden sticks. "They want to be nurtured and cared for - yet they never demand us to rush. They can be patient and silent companions. They can help us to stay calm and to order our thoughts."

Jemma smiled. "That's ... a nice perspective on plants."

Dr. Reid returned the smile and entered the house to talk to Fitz.

_Fitz._

Jemma's fingers involuntarily tightened around the handle of the shovel in her hand. 

*

Fitz doesn't sleep with her.

At first it hurts.  
Hurts to wait for him and to finally realize, that he won't come.

She lies in the dark, her eyes wide open. She hears him wander around downstairs in the living room.  
At some point it's completely quiet.  
She hesitates, but then the worry takes over and she walks downstairs to look for him.

He lies on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around him, his face buried in a pillow.

"Fitz," she says softly. It's a plea. It's also a question.

He raises his head and blinks at her.  
He swallows and rubs his forehead with one hand.  
"I'm sorry, Jemma," he says softly.  
Only that.

Unspoken words hang in the air between them.  
_Please don't ask._  
_Please._  
  
She doesn't ask.  
She nods and leaves.  
Closes the door behind her.

When she's back in her bed, she can't sleep.  
But it is as if she has nightmares nevertheless.  
She sees Fitz in front of her.  
Sees the gun in his hand.  
Sees him pulling the trigger.  
Sees his empty eyes.  
She lies there and breathes hectically and wonders if this will ever stop.

Once, it isn't a gun in her dream.  
It's a knife.  
He cuts his wrists and this time it's not his LMD.  
She stifles her shocked gasps in the pillow.

After she calmed down enough, she goes into the kitchen, rips open the drawers and puts all the knives she can find in a box.  
The box lands in the store room.  
She hides the key.

In the morning, Fitz looks at her as if he knows.

*

The days go by in a steady rhythm.  
She makes breakfast and makes sure that Fitz eats some of it.  
She does the dishes while he falls asleep on the sofa again.  
The drugs make him tired and dizzy.  
She throws a blanket over him and goes into the garden.

She works.

In the afternoon she wakes up Fitz,ust before Dr. Reid arrives.

She works again.

The evenings are silent and she washes her hands for eternities, to get rid of the earth.  
Afterwards she makes sure that Fitz takes his medication and then goes to bed alone.

Another day to come.  
Another day of work.

*

She gets used to having to get Fitz to do the most basic things.

"Eat something, darling."

"Drink some water."

"You have to shave, Fitz."

"You have not changed your clothes for three days Fitz."

She gets used to the fact that depression forces him onto the sofa.  
That he hardly moves.  
That he doesn't leave the house.  
She gets used to his silence.   
He barely speaks.   
Only when he really has do.  
But she gets used to it.

What she doesn't get used to, is him avoiding her touch.  
She knows why he does it.  
But it still hurts.  
It hurts to see him back away.  
It hurts to see the fearful look in his eyes.

 _You won't hurt me_ , she wants to tell him.  
_You do not need to worry about me._  
Please let us fight this together.  
Let us fix this, together  
Just like we used to

But she keeps the words to herself.  
He has enough to worry about.

The flowers in her garden start to blossom shyly.

*

"I want to talk to you today too, Jemma."

Jemma's hand stops in the air, over a bucket of earth. Her fingers tighten around the shovel she's holding.  
"No, thanks," she finally says. "I ... I'm fine." She looks at Dr. Reid and smiles brightly. At least she hopes that there is a smile on her face. Because it feels more like a grimace.

Dr. Reid looks at her and Jemma avoids her gaze.  
"Jemma. I know that you think you have to be strong enough for both of you. But what happened, what you saw, surely left its mark on you too. It will help you to talk about it. To let it out. Don't keep it in you. At some point it will overwhelm you."

Jemma takes a deep breath. She puts her shovel in the bucket and shakes her head.  
"I can't do this ..." she mumbles.

"When was the last time you slept through the night?" Dr. Reid asks calmly.

Jemma looks at her hand. Some earth sticks on her index finger. She flicks it away.  
"I don't know."

"Nightmares?"

"Yes."

"What is happening in them?"

She swallows.  
"Fitz. It's Fitz killing himself. Many times. In different ways. And I always wonder if everything's my fault. If I could have done more to help him. To prevent it all ... after all it was _me_ who convinced him to go into the field ..."  
She feels her lower lip start to tremble as she pushes back tears.  
She sniffles.  
"I guess I'm not as fine as I thought I'd be," she says softly.

Dr. Reid nods.  
"I see you in an hour," she says.

Jemma nods and watches a beetle slowly wandering up the tomato plant. "Okay."

*

She talks with Dr. Reid.  
Talks about the nightmares and the fears that keep her awake.  
Talks about a future that now, after all that has happened, appears like a naive wishful creation.  
But it's a future she wants.  
She wants it so much that it hurts.

Dr. Reid listens.  
She just listens.

And the longer Jemma talks, the lighter she feels.  
At some point tears run down her face, but she doesn't feel bad about it.  
She allows it, because she senses that there is something that leaves her. That makes place for something else.  
  
When they are done after an hour, the future doesn't feel so fragile anymore.

*

A few nights later, she doesn't wake up from a nightmare.  
She wakes up from the fact that the bed creaks under an extra weight.  
Fitz ...

She hardly dares to breathe when she hears him slowly, carefully, laying on his back next to her.  
Her heart is pounding loud and strong in her chest.

She hears him sighing softly.  
And eventually he is breathing slowly, evenly.

Jemma almost cries with relief.  
She is no longer alone.

*

They both talk to Dr. Reid.

Fitz starts to eat more and sleep less.  
Sometimes, when she stops working in the garden and enters the house, she sees him lying on the couch, reading.  
He starts to do things on his own.  
Jemma almost starts to cry when he shaves without her reminder for the first time.

She sleeps better now.  
She feels Fitz moving closer to her with every passing night.  
Until they're hands almost touch.

 _Do we get actually better?_   She asks herself in wonder.

The garden grows and it satisfies her to watch the process. 

*

It's warm and Jemma's garden is finished.  
As finished as it can be.

The first berries hang on the plants. Flowers are blooming and there's no sign of weeds.  
Bees buzz around her. A butterfly lands on one of the stones that Jemma has arranged to mark a small path through the garden.  
She looks at her work and feels pride.

Suddenly she hears hesitant and slow footsteps behind her.  
She turns around and sees Fitz approaching her.

Fitz blinks into the sun and she remembers that it's the first time in months that he leaves the house. 

She smiles at him.  
Her heart thumps hopefully in her chest as he returns her smile timidly.

He stops beside her and looks at the garden.

"Do you like it?" Jemma asks a bit nervously. "Well, it was there. And I thought ... instead of just leaving it unkempt ..."

"It's perfect," he says softly.  
He turns to look at her.

She suddenly realizes how close they are.  
She feels the desperate need to hug him, but she doesn't dare to. She's unsure how far she can go. How far, until he doesn't trust himself anymore.

As if he read her thoughts, Fitz slowly raises his hand and touches her cheek lightly.  
His fingers carefully move over her skin.  
She keeps still. She looks into his wide open eyes and enjoys to feel his touch after all this time.

"Jemma," he says softly.

And he kisses her.

It's a timid kiss.  
Something about it is so painfully uncertain and hopeful that it hurts her deep inside.

But she melts into it.  
Takes and gives.  
Shows him that it's okay.  
That they are okay.  
That they will be okay.  
Somehow.

He pulls her close and she presses her face to his chest. Breathes in his familiar smell and closes her eyes.

"I love you," Fitz whispers.


	14. Light (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team comes to visit. They have a special gift for Jemma. Daisy wants to talk to Fitz. (Sequel to "Defeated" and "Rebirth")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a sequel to the last two chapters.  
> I would advise you to read them before this.  
> I hope you like the chapter :3

Jemma opens the door and for a moment it feels like nothing changed at all.  
  
She opens the door for the team and looks into their faces, which carry a mixture of joy, affection and questions.  
Coulson hugs her before he enters. There's sunburn on his cheeks and his upper arms. May, however, who gives her one of her rare honest smiles, is tanned. For a split second, Jemma wonders where they have been. But actually it doesn't really matter. All that matters is that they are happy. And that is how they both look. Happy.  
  
Right behind Coulson and May comes Mack, who has to keep his head down to get through the door. He is followed by Elena, who uses one robotic arm to gently and cautiously press Jemma to her.  
  
And then, there's only Daisy left.  
Daisy who bites her lip and restlessly plays with a small package in her hands. "Hey," she says softly.  
Jemma smiles at her. "Hey. Are you coming?"  
Daisy looks at her. Her eyes are slightly wet. "Yes," she says.  
She hugs Jemma, who whispers, "I'm glad you're here."  
"Me too," Daisy murmurs back.  
Then she follows the others to the living room.  
  
Jemma closes the door behind Daisy and realizes that actually, everything has changed.

*

They are in the living room and everyone starts talking at the same time.  
They look at each other and burst into laughter.  
Coulson clears his throat and everyone looks at him expectantly. Some things never change.

"We brought something along, given the joyous news," he says and smiles.

May rummages in her bag and brings out a package.  
She gives it to Jemma with a smile.

"Congratulations, Jemma," Coulson says softly and everyone nods.

Jemma smiles and feels the first tears in her eyes.  
She opens the gift under the expectant glances of the others, and laughs as she pulls out a colorful onesie and a fluffy plush monkey.  
"Thank you," she says in a trembling voice, unconsciously stroking over her still-mostly-flat stomach.

"We thought: like father, like daughter," Coulson says with a wink.

And finally, someone asks the question. It's Mack.  
"Where is Fitz?"

Everyone looks at Jemma.  
She clears her throat.  
"He's upstairs. He will come down when he's ready. He said that to me this morning. I didn't want to push him."

"Okay," Mack says and nods.  
He and the others turn to cake and tea.  
Conversations start.  
They have a lot to tell each other.

Jemma runs her fingers through the fur of the plush monkey and lets her thoughts wander for a moment. She remembers a younger Fitz, who spent hours debating with herthe pros and cons of a monkey aboard the Zephyr.  
Old times, uncomplicated and colourful.  
Their problems of that time,hey seem so insignificant now.  
But back then they weren't.

Suddenly Daisy sits down next to her and looks at her questioningly.  
"How is he?"

Jemma smiles slightly. "Better. Well, there are good and bad days." She frowns. "And those in between."

Daisy nods. She looks down at the little package in her hands. "I see. It's the same for me."  
She clears her throat. "Do you think ... uh ... I really wanted to talk to him. In private, if possible. But ... do you think he's ready for that?"

Jemma looks at her thoughtfully. Daisy's glance is unsure and hesitant. But there's also something searching in her eyes.  
She nods slightly.  
"You can try. Just knock on the door and wait. I don't know how he will react."

"Okay," Daisy says softly and stands up.  
She slowly walks towards the stairs.

Jemma looks after her and distantly hopes that Daisy will find what she seems to be looking for.

*

Daisy raises her hand three times and lets it sink again before she finally dares to knock on the door.  
As she waits for a reaction, she involuntarily holds her breath.

"Yes?" Fitz's muffled voice sounds surprised.

"Uh, hey Fitz. It's me, Daisy. I ... I wanted to ask if I could talk to you. Just for a moment?"

For a moment, it's completely silent.  
Daisy waits. Her heart is pounding loudly in her chest.  
She lowers her head and closes her eyes.  
The next moment, the door opens slowly in front of her.  
When she raises her head she sees Fitz for the first time in eight months. It almost takes her breath away.  
At first she thinks he hasn't changed much.  
But on closer inspection, she discovers so much change that it hurts a bit.  
He's thinner. His hair is longer, almost as long as back then, when they first met. He looks tired.

"Hey," Daisy says softly.  
Fitz's eyes wander over her face. "Hello, Daisy," he says. He opens the door wider and nods encouragingly. "Come in."

He goes back into the room and sits down on the bed.  
Daisy follows him slowly and looks around involuntarily.  
The curtains are almost closed, as if to block out the bright light from outside.  
On the nighttable, there is a full bottle of water, a notebook and some pillboxes.  
She looks for a place to sit and finally settles down on the chair opposite of the bed.  
She clears her throat.  
"How are you?

Fitz thinks for a moment. "I've been worse," he says then. "The therapy helps. A lot. It helps to talk to someone who wasn't ... who wasn't _there_."

She nods understandingly.  
"I know what you mean," she says softly. "I ... I talked to someone who wasn't there too."

If he is surprised about this revelation, he doesn't show it.

"I have something ...," she shows him the package and smiles tentatively. She holds it out to him and after a moment he hesitantly reaches for it.  
She watches him as he carefully removes the paper without causing a single tear.  
He slowly opens the box and looks inside.  
His expression gets both surprised and pleased.  
"Oh."

"I thought ... I saw it in a shop. And it reminded me," Daisy says softly. "Reminded me of the past. We used to hold … "

"We held competitions," Fitz says, taking the Rubik's Cube out of the box. He looks at it from all sides.

"And you were always faster," Daisy says with a wistful smile.

Fitz takes a deep breath. He doesn't take his eyes off the cube. "Thanks, Daisy," he says.

She nods. She chews on her lower lip as she searches for the right words.  
"I ... I've been thinking a lot," she finally says. Fitz doesn't look at her, but his fingers begin to glide over the cube. Restlessly. Nervously.

She continues.  
"I thought a lot about what happened. I ... I'm still angry. And hurt. And I ... I can't just forgive ..."

"You shouldn't," Fitz says softly. She can't see his face, but she can almost hear what he's feeling. And it hurts her. "You shouldn't forgive. You should never forgive. I don't want forgiveness. I deserve it. I deserve the rage. The hate ... "'

Daisy gives him a startled look.  
"What ... I don't _hate_ you, Fitz."

"But you should," he says dully. "You have every right to."

 _I don't want to hate you_ , Daisy thinks almost desperately. _I want ... I want to understand._  
She swallows and looks at her hands. She remembers. Remembers the incredible rage she felt when she quaked him against the wall of the cell. Rage ... so much rage. But the rage had given way to horror when she had held a weeping Jemma in her arms. When she heard that Fitz almost killed himself. When she realized that she almost lost a member of her little fragile but real family.

Daisy looks at Fitz. Looks at his raised shoulders and his hands, which are still clasping the cube, trembling slightly.  
She swallows.  
"I was there, you know," she says. "I was at this point where you think there is ... there is no other way out. When you think you have to protect the others from yourself. When you think that you can never go back to what you once had. You ... _we_ have been through a lot. We were injured and did injure. But ... we're still a family, Fitz. We will always be a family."

Finally he raises his head and looks at her.  
There are tears in his eyes.  
He shakes his head slightly.  
"What do you want to tell me, Daisy?" He asks barely audible.

She gets up with a sigh and goes to him. She reaches out a hand to him.  
"That I miss my friend," she says softly. "That I want him back. That I want to understand what happened. We can't get back what we once had. But we can try to help each other to process what we have been through. We can try to trust each other again. I want to try, Fitz. Please tell me you want to try too."

Fitz looks up at her.  
His eyes are wide open, his glance a mixture of disbelief and ... hope.  
"I miss you too," he says softly.  
Then he takes her hand and presses it lightly.  
They just look at each other for a moment.  
Finally they let go and Daisy clears her throat. "I'll go back to the others now," she says softly.  
Fitz nods and swallows.

Daisy turns and walks slowly to the door.  
Before she leaves the room, she looks back to Fitz.  
"Are you coming?" She asks.

Fitz hesitates. He looks down at the Rubik's Cube in his hands. Finally he says quietly, "Yes. I ... I just need a moment."

"Okay," Daisy says and nods.  
Then she leaves.  
She feels lighter.

*

When Daisy goes back to the others, she meets curious eyes, but no one asks.

She sits down next to Jemma and gratefully accepts the piece of cake she hands her.  
Jemma doesn't say anything. She just smiles and Daisy smiles back.  
  
After about half an hour, Fitz walks slowly and hesitantly into the room.

The conversations stop.  
Everyone stares at Fitz, who looks like he will turn around and flee at any moment.

Then Mack suddenly and loudly says, "Turbo. Good to see you, man. I could use your help with some tech I'm working on."

Fitz smiles tentatively. He seems relieved. "Where's the problem?"

Mack and he go to the side and start a heated discussion about something that no one else understands.  
The cheerful conversations continue and time flies by.

Their paths separate again in the late evening.  
But only temporarily.

A few days later, Daisy receives the first letter from Fitz.  
She writes back.

And that's how it starts.


	15. Anticipation (Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma's looking forward to expand their little family. But Fitz secretly worries. A lot. Bonus: Fitz's first letter to Daisy (Sequel to "Defeated", "Rebirth" and "Light")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I watched Infinity War last Saturday ...  
> What a hell ride.  
> I'm still not okay.  
> Before I watched it, I thought it would be nice if Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. would do a proper tie in.  
> But now?  
> NO. PLEASE DON'T O_o' 
> 
> Anyway, here's the new chapter.  
> I'm not ... completely happy with it for some reason. It's possible that I change it a bit today.  
> I would love some feedback <3

Fitz is standing at the window, carefully pushing the curtain aside with one hand. Down in the garden he can see Jemma pouring over her plants. He observes her as she straightens and stretches her back. She strokes over her forehead with one hand and then, apparently involuntarily, over her stomach. There's a gentle, slightly self-forgotten smile on her face.  
Fitz swallows.

"Fitz?"

The female voice behind him brings him back to reality.  
He closes the curtain again and turns around with a sigh.  
Dr. Reid is sitting in the chair opposite the bed.  
It's the same chair in which Daisy sat a few days ago, amoment seems so unreal to Fitz by now that he sometimes wonders if it could have been a dream.  
But there's the Rubik's Cube on the bedside table. The Rubik's Cube is real, so Daisy's visit was real too.

Dr. Reid clears her throat. "So the team was here?" she asks, matching the thoughts in Fitz's head.

He nods and walks to the bed.  
He sits down slowly and reaches for the Rubik's Cube. He turns it in his hands and says, "Daisy talked to me."

"Ah. How did it go?"

How did it go? That's a good question.  
He knows he felt something when he took Daisy's hand. Something like hope.

"Good. Better than I would have thought. I expected a lot when she came in," Fitz says thoughtfully. "I've already seen myself flying against the wall. But she was ... she wasn't angry. Not directly. I can't really describe what she seemed to feel. But she said that she would like to try. To trust again. Something like a new start. That's good, I guess."

Dr. Reid nods. "Will you stay in touch?"

He thinks about it for a moment. "I would like that, but ... I don't know how. Phoning is not ... I don't think I could do that," he says doubtfully.

She puts one finger to her chin thoughtfully and then asks, "What about letters?"

He blinks in surprise. Letters. That's a good idea. "Yes," he says. "Yes. I think ... I could do that."

She smiles warmly. "I think that would be a good opportunity for you both. When we write, we express ourselves and release something deep inside us. It's a healing process. We allow pain or fear to flow into the words, making it easier to let go of them. Try it. I'm sure she will answer you."

"Okay." He nods and looks down at the Rubik's Cube. The thoughts about Daisy are now that to a solution is in sight, replaced by a worry that has been with him for weeks, but has never troubled him as much as it does today. He bites his lower lip.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me, Fitz?" The therapist asks at that exact moment and Fitz almost smiles.  
She is good.  
Really good.  
Sometimes too good.

He swallows. The problem presses on him heavily and the words don't want to come over his lips at first.  
"Jemma," he finally says softly. "Jemma and ... our child. It's ... I ... "  
He closes his eyes in annoyance, when the words fail him and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

Dr. Reid waits patiently.

Finally, Fitz says softly, "I don't think ... I don't know if I'm going to be a good father. If I _can_ be a good father."

Dr. Reid nods thoughtfully. "Did you talk about it with Jemma?"

Fitz shakes his head. "I can't. She's so ... so happy. Whenever she mentions the baby, her eyes start to sparkle and she ... she doesn't deserve this."

He swallows and closes his eyes. The worry and the pain that accompanies it threaten to take his breath away.

"I can't take the happiness away from her again," he whispers finally. Tears start to well in his eyes against his will. "She deserves to be happy. But I'm just an extra burden for her. Another problem. I'm ... useless."

"It can be overwhelming to have a baby. The responsibility and the challenges it brings are huge," Dr. Reid says calmly. "Definitely a stressor. Especially when you're processing traumatic experiences. It would be for the best that you both talk about your fears. Together. Tell her you are worried. I'm sure she understands, Fitz. And I think you know that too."

"That's the bad thing," he mumbles. "I know that I shouldn't think how I do. That I don't need to have those fears - but it just happens. I look in the mirror and wonder why I'm even here. Why I do that to her. Why she has to deal with me day by day. Why I'm so ... so weak." He presses a hand against his forehead. "Will I ever be able to stop this?" He asks barely audible.

There's a moment of silence.

Then Dr. Reid gets up and puts a hand on his shoulder. "It's tough. It's like moving through several layers. Layers of experiences, memories and fears. These layers may never completely disappear. But you will come to a point where you can create a new layer. One of good experiences. Nice memories. Positive feelings." She smiles. "Being a father doesn't just mean responsibility, it also means lots of wonderful experiences. You will see it for yourself."

Fitz swallows. Her words don't quite make it through the veil of concern in his head yet, but they are comforting and at give him a hint of hope.

Dr. Reid takes her hand away and starts to gather her things. "We're done for today," she says softly.  
Fitz just nods.

"Talk to Jemma, Fitz," the therapist says, when she's at the door. "Talk to her. You will feel better afterwards. And don't be afraid you could make her unhappy. You go this way together. As you have always done it. Don't forget that."

Then she's gone.

Fitz turns the Rubik's Cube in his hands and thinks.

*

In the evening, Jemma is sitting on the porch, cutting some apples into neat quarters. The sun is setting slowly.  
The sky is changing from soft red purple tones to a shadowy turquoise.  
It’s still warm.  
The air is mild and fresh.  
It’s that time of the year when summer almost reluctantly gives way to autumn.

Fitz walks barefoot over the grass. It’s a pleasant feeling. Dry and a bit cool.  
As he approaches, Jemma raises her head and smiles.  
The smile is wide and warm and God, he doesn’t want to destroy it.  
He just wants to look at it and drown in the love in her eyes.

He struggles to smile back and sits down opposite her at the small table. She hands him a piece of apple. "These may be the best apples I've ever eaten," she says. "My mother always said that you can’t compare fruits from the supermarket to fruits from the land. It's just something completely different. She was right." She bites into her own slice and smiles.

But that smile fades and she frowns, when she seems to sense his tenseness.

"Fitz. Is everything alright?" she asks softly.

He has to smile, even though he is feeling a little sick.

Sometimes it really feels like she can read his mind.  
He lowers his head and closes his eyes. Tries to find the right words.  
"Jemma, I ..."

She looks at him expectantly.

He swallows.  
_I'm worried. Worried that I can't be what I should be. How you need me. How our child will need me._  
_Am I not a wreck already?_  
_What if it gets worse again? What if I lose my mind completely at some point? What if I hurt you. If I leave you. If I ..._  
Of all the thoughts that go through his mind, only one comes to the surface: "I don't know if I can do this."

He could mean anything with that phrase.  
But Jemma knows immediately.  
She always knows.  
And her eyes wander over his face. They read the doubts and the fears he's feeling.

"Oh Fitz," she whispers.

He swallows and looks aside. "I'm sorry …"

Jemma shakes her head. She leans forward and raises a hand. She gently touches his cheek and he involuntarily leans into the touch.

"Don't be afraid. You will be a great father," she says softly. "I know it. And you know it too. You are not like your father. You are not like this copy Aida put in your head. You are not weak. To the contrary. Don't you realize that we have defeated them all? All the people, the strange creatures and shadows that stood in our way, we defeated them and now we are here. We are here together."  
She smiles and her gaze gets something painful. "How many times did we think it was over?"

"Often enough," he mumbles. Her words are like balm for his soul. They push the doubts and fears into the background.

"Often enough," she repeats softly. "Oh yeah. But now we are at the point where life begins." She smiles and puts her free hand on her stomach. "Now we create life. And we will have so much time. It won't always be easy, of course not. But we are together and when one of us stumbles, the other one catches them. Like always."

She looks at him with sparkling eyes and smiles. "Just imagine, Fitz ... we'll be a family. Do you know what this means?"

He smiles back slightly. "Mmh ... yes, I can see it in front of my eyes. It will come the time of small accidents. The time of the colorful plasters and the maser vaccinations. Collective colds ..."

Jemma puts a finger on her chin and says with relish: "Children's birthday parties. About 10 screaming children in our garden. Chaos. A lot of fun."

He grins. "And barbecue parties with annoyingly normal neighbours."

"And parent-teacher interviews. Ugh."

"Oh yeah. And school performances ."

"At some point we will have a pet ..."

"A monkey ..."

"More like a dog or a cat, love."

"Well, I don't want to alarm you, but I'm sure you will be outvoted ..."

They laugh.  
It's redemptive.  
The gloomy thoughts in his mind have disappeared like the clouds above them in the sky, where the first stars are visible.  
They make room for hope and careful anticipation.  
There is still so much time until they will be parents.  
Enough time to prepare.  
Enough time to dream. Maybe even enough time to work on the layer Dr. Reid was talking about.

Jemma looks at him and smiles. "Shall we go in?"

In her words he hears another question, which is also a promise.  
He nods. His heart beats faster in his heart.  
He needs her.  
Needs to be close to her.

The rest of the evening passes in warm, trusting and loving closeness.

*

_Dear Daisy,_

_I thought about what you said. If we could start trusting each other again. So I'm taking the next step here. Since you made the first one, it's only fair, I guess._  
_The suggestion to write letters comes from my therapist. She said it would be a great way to process things. A healing process._  
_So this is my first letter. ~~Sorry, I've never done that before.~~_  
_I thought we could start getting to know each other better._  
_I never really told you anything about me. Well, nothing personal._  
_Somehow we probably never had time for that. But somehow it's suitable for a new start, I guess._  
_I was born in Scotland._  
_My full name is Leopold James Fitz._  
_I'm an only child. I have often wished for a sibling. Probably because I had so much trouble with socialising. I never really got along with the other kids. And as you may know - or don't know - children_ _can be cruel. School  wasn't an easy time. Neither in Primary school nor later.  
But at least I got a library card pretty early. I have read a lot of books. Over time I became faster and faster. I literally_ _devoured the books. I don't know if you read a lot, but I think it was just tempting to disappear in another world. To imagine, you are someone else. Someone great. Only for a few hours._  
_My mother has always given me books._  
 _My dad hated them. The books. Maybe me too. At least he didn't hide his disappointment. I guess he would have wished for a son who - well, now we know how he wanted his son to be, right? ~~I'm still~~_  
 _He drank a lot. But he had a low tolerance. Every second evening he came home drunk ~~and screamed at my mother.~~_  
_~~Sometimes  
Often~~_  
_I think I don't want to add more to this. I'm not sure how much you want to know. I'm not even sure if this is a good idea. You can write back if you want._  
_~~Unless~~_  
 _~~Or~~_  
 _I hope to hear from you soon (maybe)._

_Fitz._


	16. Goosebumps (Part 5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Fitz experience a setback. Bonus: Daisy's answer to Fitz's letter. (Sequel to "Defeated", "Rebirth", "Light" and "Anticipation")

Jemma puts her crochet needle aside and frowns.  
  
The water in the bathroom upstairs has been running for quite a long time now.  
She knows that Fitz likes to take very long and very hot showers. But by now he should have run out of warm water.  
Involuntarily, worry stirs in her.  
She takes a deep breath and remembers that Dr. Reid advised her not to be constantly worried. She needs to be more relaxed. Needs to trust that Fitz might not need her help every second. It's difficult. She forces herself to do so.  
  
She picks up the wool and the crochet needle again - In the last few weeks she taught herself to crochet after she had realised that nothing more could be improved on her garden.  
She found a guide for wool socks on the internet. It's harder than she thought, but she wants to practice until she can crochet a monkey on the socks for Fitz. The winter here in the countryside will certainly be long and cold.  
  
For a short while, she continues and tries to concentrate.  
Outside, the leaves are falling from the trees. Rain is drumming against the windows.  
The summer is finally over.  
Time passes as quickly as ever.  
  
Jemma can now feel her pregnancy.  
She waits eagerly-joyfully for the moment in which the baby moves for the first time.  
She smiles involuntarily. Before her eyes she sees the image of her and Fitz in bed, his hand warm on her stomach and his eyes shining as he feels the movements ...  
  
The water is still running.  
  
Jemma sighs and puts the needle away.  
She swallows.  
She can't do anything about the unwell thoughts that sneak in between the feelings of excitement.  
The concern makes her heart beat faster.  
What if …  
There is always a what if.  
  
Finally, she can't hold back anymore. She gets up and goes upstairs.  
She gently knocks on the door of the bath.  
"Fitz? Is everything alright?"  
  
No reaction.  
He doesn't answer.  
The water just keeps running.  
Jemma sighs and opens the door.  
Her gaze flickers through the room. From the mirror on the wall, fogged by the steam, to the pile of clothes on the floor in front of the shower, to -  
"Fitz," she whispers.  
  
His sight makes her breath falter. She freezes.  
He's sitting huddled on the floor of the shower, his knees drawn and his head hidden in his arms.  
The water, which has to be cold for a while now, flows down on him like a waterfall.  
She can see his body shaking slightly.  
  
After a moment that seems endless, she can finally move and she hurries to him. She turns off the water - it's freezing - and gets on her knees in front of him.  
He doesn't react to her.  
She can see his eyes now. They are open and glassy.  
His breath is hectic and short.  
_A panic attack_ , a voice in her head says helpfully. _He's having a panic attack._

She reaches for a towel and carefully wraps it around his shoulders. Again no reaction.  
She knows that she mustn't release the tension in his muscles convulsively, so she just strokes over his arms and shoulders lightly. Tries to show him somehow that she's there.  
Dr. Reid's advices echoes through her mind.  
No loud speech.  
No firm touch or hold.  
No pressure.  
Just be there.  
  
Finally, after what feels like eternity, the tension in his muscles slowly disappears. He raises his head and blinks at her.  
"Jemma?" His voice is broken. Barely audible.  
  
"Hey love," she tries to smile and strokes over his arm. "You have to be awfully cold. Don't you want to come out of the shower?"  
  
Change of location.  
That's what comes next on the list.  
  
He looks at her and his gaze gets confused.  
He shudders. It seems as if he only notices now that cold water is dripping from his hair into his neck.  
"Is this real?" He whispers.  
  
Jemma's stomach cramps painfully.  
"Yes."  
  
His eyes close for a moment. When he opens them again, his look is clearer, to Jemma's relief.  
"Cold," he says, shuddering again.  
He has goosebumps all over his body.  
  
"I know." She takes a second towel and begins to gently dry his hair.  
He lets it happen.  
The tension has completely left his body.  
Now he seems more like exhausted-loose.  
  
"Bedroom?" She asks after she warmed him up a bit.  
  
Fitz just nods. He lets her pull him to his feet. He absently pulls the towel tighter around him.  
He is still way too thin.  
She can clearly see his ribs.  
  
When they are in the bedroom, she lets go of him for a moment and takes his pyjamas out of the drawer.  
He just stands still, looking lost.  
He scratches his arms restlessly.  
  
When Jemma hands him the pyjamas, Fitz takes them mechanically and begins to dress.  
Jemma is watching him.  
She has the urge to go to him and hug him.  
To tell him that everything will be fine.  
To take away his pain.  
To take away the pictures he may have seen during the attack.  
To give him the opportunity to get rid of everything.  
But by now they both know that this isn't an option.  
Jemma has to keep the distance.  
She can't take this position too. It would just strain their relationship more.  
  
They both know what to do. It's protocol.  
Fitz goes to bed. He turns on his stomach and buries his face in the pillow.  
Jemma swallows.  
"I’ll call Dr. Reid, alright? "   
  
She sees him nodding almost imperceptibly.   
  
*  


Jemma is sitting at the table in the living room, staring at her started wool socks.  
  
It's getting dark outside.  
The days are getting shorter very fast.  
  
Dr. Reid has been upstairs for over an hour now.  
Jemma bites her lower lip and strokes absently over her stomach.  
She doesn't understand.  
He had been better.  
He had been so much better that she didn't feel insecure when she left the cottage to drive to her gynaecologist in town or to a more distant supermarket.  
What does this relapse mean?  
Did she do something wrong?  
  
Approaching steps interrupt her thoughts.  
Dr. Reid comes into the room and smiles at her.  
"He's sleeping. I gave him a light sedative. He was pretty upset. But he is feeling better now."  
  
Jemma nods silently.  
She turns her face away ashamed, as she realizes she can barely hold back the tears.  
  
Dr. Reid goes to her and sits down next to her.  
"You did everything right, Jemma," she says softly. "And you are not to blame."  
  
Jemma swallows and looks at the therapist. "But ... why did it happen then? What went wrong? I thought …"  
  
Dr. Reid shakes his head. "Nothing went wrong. That was a setback. This is part of a healing process. The trauma doesn't simply disappear. It will always be there. It's not about getting rid of it. It's about accepting, processing and looking to the future. Such a panic attack can be caused by many triggers. A thought. A memory. A sound. A smell. Of course, it's most devastating when something like that comes unexpectedly. But you have to understand that its part of the recovery process Fitz is going through. It might happen again."  
  
Jemma nods and wipes a strand of hair from her forehead. "I ... it's just that ... I don't want him to feel bad. Or weak. Or that he thinks again, he will be a bad father because of this."  
  
"I know. Let him sleep through the night. Maybe you can talk about it tomorrow," Dr. Reid gets up. "I have to move on to another appointment."  
  
"Of course. Um. He ... he won't ... I mean, does he think about ..."

"About hurting himself?"   
  
"Yes." Jemma looks down at her hands and swallows hard. This would be the worst case scenario for her. A setback to the really dark times, in which Fitz said it would be better for everyone if he would just be gone.  
  
But Dr. Reid shakes her head. "No. I'm sure he's not suicidal anymore, Jemma. Don't worry ."  
  
Jemma nods in relief. "OK. Thank you."  
  
The therapist smiles warmly. "You're welcome. If there's something, call the emergency number."  
  
"Alright."  
  
"See you soon."  
  
Jemma looks after the therapist as she leaves.  
She feels a little better.  
But also terribly tired.  
  
Not much later, she makes herself ready for bed.  
As she walks into the bedroom, Fitz is fast asleep.  
He is lying on his back.  
His face is relaxed and his mouth is slightly open.  
He looks young and vulnerable.  
  
Jemma lays carefully next to him and turns on her side so she can look at him.  
After a while she has to close her eyes.  
She falls asleep while listening to Fitz's calm breath and the steady rain outside.  
  
*

In the morning, Jemma awakens to bird chirping and the vague smell of pancakes.  
Astonished, she raises her head and moans softly as bright light dazzles her from the outside. She puts her arm over her face.  
The sun is shining unusually bright for a day in the middle of autumn.  
  
The next moment, Fitz pulls the curtain shut and Jemma can't suppress a giggle as she takes a closer look at him.  
He has tied her apron around his waist, but only wears his pyjama pants.  
He looks at her and grins. "I'll be right back," he says and hurries out of the room again.  
  
She looks after him, half confused, half amused.  
The next moment she remembers what happened yesterday  
The panic attack.  
She swallows.  
Fitz seems to be doing pretty well.  
Or is heonly acting like everything's alright?  
It wouldn't be the first time.  
It also wouldn't be the first time that he has mood swings.  
She just decides to wait and see.  
  
When Fitz returns, he's carrying a tray in his hands.  
"Breakfast in bed?" he asks with a wink.  
  
"Always," Jemma replies beaming, shifting to make way for him.  
  
They eat in silence. The pancakes are exactly the way she likes them most.  
After a while, they put the tray to the side and lie back in bed. She moves closer to him and puts her head against his chest. She can hear his heartbeat,steady and strong. It’s comforting. She closes her eyes for a moment. Fitz starts stroking through her hair with one hand.  
  
It's silent for a few minutes. It is not an unpleasant silence.  
  
Finally, Jemma asks softly, "Are you okay?"  
  
Fitz waits a while with his answer. Finally, he says, "I think so. Jemma ... I'm sorry if I scared you." He swallows. "You're pregnant. You shouldn't ... you should avoid any kind of stress, Jemma."  
  
She shakes her head. "Don't worry. I'm fine. The baby is too. And you know, if you want to talk about it, then I'll listen. I'm here."  
  
He looks ahead thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his lower lip.  
She waits patiently.  
Finally he says: "It was ... strange. For a moment I stood under the water and everything was completely normal. Then ... somehow, I felt like I was ... not right there."  
He looks at her and swallows. "Like I was here and not here ... I can't really remember if I thought anything during the panic attack. But I know you brought me back. Your voice and your touch brought me back. You were there and real. Thank you, Jemma."  
  
He gives her a gentle kiss on the head. Then he quietly adds, "Dr. Reid said it could happen again. Even the medications can't prevent  everything that  causes a panic attack. They can be weaker or stronger. But she has told me a few things that I can do to help myself. Breathing techniques and such stuff."  
  
Jemma nods. "And I'll always be there," she says. "To bring you back."  
  
He exhales shakily and strokes over her cheek with one hand. "Oh, Jemma," he says softly. "I love you so much."  
  
"I love you too."  
  
He kisses her again and then puts his hand on her stomach. "I love you too, baby" he whispers, and Jemma smiles.  
And then it happens.  
Exactly at this moment, the baby moves. It kicks in her stomach. Once.   
Fitz inhales sharply and Jemma beams.  
He looks at her. "Was that …?"  
"Yes," Jemma says. "Our daughter makes herself noticeable."  
His eyes start to gleam and it's just as she imagined.  
Perfect.   
  
*

The next day the postman brings a letter that Fitz hasn't really expected to come.  
It's Daisy's answer.  
  
_Dear Fitz,  
thank you for your letter.  
I once had a pen pal. That was a long time ago and was more of a coercive measure than my own choice. I guess the lovable ladies, who had taken it upon themselves to raise me, thought it would busy us and bring us "joy".  
  
Well, I should stop to beat around the bush.  
  
The truth is, I cried when I read your letter.  
I'm also crying now, while writing mine.  
  
My own therapist also said it was a good idea (are you sure our therapists are not actually the same person?)  
I also wanted siblings.  
I mean, there were many other children in the orphanage. I had to live in a room with three other girls. But ... that's not the same thing. Here we are somehow similar.  
School was not so pleasant for me either.  
I guess the others found me ... too weird? Too rude? Whatever.  
  
When I think about it, we are similar in more than one way.  
  
Well, my family will certainly not win a prize either. But at least my father stood by me in the end.  
Your dad is an asshole.  
He has no idea how smart and talented his son is. How friendly, helpful and emphatic. You were there when I discovered my powers. When I was scared. You were there when nobody else wanted to be there. I'm grateful for that, please believe me.  
I know that I hurt you too. More than once. For that I was and still am sorry.  
~~I wish ... I wish we could ...~~ Sometimes I wish we had the opportunity to turn back the time.  
But we can't.  
Everything has become so difficult and sad.  
Sometimes it's overwhelming ...  
  
_

_It sucks.  
  
Do you sometimes think of the time when we were like children?  
When we played pranks on each other (no, I didn't forget that you put snow into my bed, Fitz ...)  
By the way, I like to read.  
What was - or is - your favorite book?  
If it's the same as mine, I won't even be surprised, I guess.  
  
I have to stop at this point. I hope that's okay.  
I am waiting for an answer?  
Best regards (also to Jemma and the baby)  
Daisy _


	17. Birth (Part 6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little star is about to enter the world. Jemma and Fitz are excited. And a bit anxious. But together they will make it. (Sequel to "Defeated", "Rebirth", "Light", "Anticipation" and "Goosebumps". Last chapter of this series for now.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter of this little series for now :)  
> And omg, it's fluffy for once!  
> I think I will add more chapters to this series at some point, but I first want to write a few other things.  
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter.  
> I think it's a good "ending" :3

It won't be long now.  
Jemma is standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom and stroking over her stomach. She bites her lip.  
The thought is unreal.  
After all this time, it almost seems like everything was just a dream. But it's real. She will have a baby.  
A daughter.  
_Maggie._  
She and Fitz will be parents.  
She takes a deep breath and smiles at her reflection.  
It won't be long now.  
It will happen soon.

Finally.

*

Fitz is amazing.  
He reads every wish from her lips.  
He forbids her to make an effort.  
He brings her breakfast in bed.  
He does all the housework.  
He's going to town just to get her a piece of that special cake she _needs_ to have for some reason.

And although he's so fine by now that Dr. Reid only comes once a week and has reduced the drug dose, although he has gained weight and the last panic attack was a long time ago, Jemma begins to worry.  
Once she says cautiously, "Fitz ... you really don't have to do all the work by yourself. We are a team. I appreciate what you're doing. But ... how about at least a bit of worksharing, hmm?"  
   
But Fitz looks up from a pregnancy guide and shakes his head. "I ... Jemma, you've been looking after me all these last months. Now it's my turn. Let me do this. It's ... it's important for me."

She understands.  
She understands and nods and says, "Okay."  
Fitz smiles at her and turns back to the guide. He frowns.  
"I need more books."

*  


Each week, Jemma and Fitz write down a list of supplies and other things they need.  
Every week aS.H.I.E.L.D. agent brings them the things on the list.  
Most time the agents are unknown to Jemma. Friendly, polite, but distant agents who leave quickly.

But this time it's Piper and Davis.  
She sees them from the window and has to smile involuntarily.  
It's nice to see familiar faces ...  
Davis arms are louded with a tall stack of books, no doubt more guides about pregnancy and babies. Piper carries a basket full of supplies.

When Jemma opens the door for them, Piper beams at her and says, "Nice to see you, Jemma. Won't be long now, will it ?"  
She looks pointedly at Jemma's stomach.

Jemma smiles. "Yes. I think so. I ... "

The next moment Fitz rushes past her, yanks the books out of Davis's arms, murmurs "Finally," and disappears into the cottage again.  
Davis blinks.  
Piper calls after him, "It's nice to see you too, Fitz!" But she smiles.

Jemma sighs. "Please don't blame him. He's terribly excited."

Piper nods and bites her lip. "But he's doing better, right?"

Jemma nods. "Yes. It was a ... a hard time. But we are on a good way. And I think this is another step into the future that we wanted."

"That's good," Piper says, throwing a side glance at Davis, which doesn't go unnoticed by Jemma. "It's good to see that you're happy. You both deserve it."  
She and Davis carry the supplies into the cottage.  
Jemma makes them tea and asks them about the team.  
She learns that there are new inhumans and new agents. But no new threat, which would come close to a catastrophe or the end of the world.  
"Coulson wanted me to remind you to let them know. When it happens," Piper says.

Jemma nods and smiles.  
"As if I could forget them."

She would never forget them.  
The rest of her family.

*

It can happen any moment now.

The thought is wonderful and overwhelming at the same time.  
She's not afraid. She feels a bit as if she's dreaming. Will it really happen?

When the contractions begin, she just comes out of the shower and dries her hair. Fitz is standing in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth.  
She feels a spasmodic wave in her stomach and gives a surprised gasp.  
"Oh. That ... the contractions."

"What? Now? Is it happening now?" Fitz asks, turning to her and looking a bit like a deer in the headlights. He drops his toothbrush. It lands on the floor with a dull sound and he looks down at it with a frown.

Jemma has to laugh despite the throbbing pain. "No. Its just Braxton Hicks contractions."  
  
"Braxton Hicks contractions," Fitz repeats and swallows. " And how long until the actual contractions begin? When do we have to go to the hospital?" He asks breathlessly and tugs at his hair.

"I think when the contractions are about 10 minutes apart," Jemma says as calmly as she can and holds on to the edge of the sink. "Oh. Ouch. Didn't you read all those books?"

Fitz blinks at her and then looks down at his feet. "Somehow I can't remember anything I've read now. I think I'm scared," he says in anxious honesty.

"Oh darling, don't worry. We still have a lot of time to prepare, I guess." She groans as another wave of pain shakes her.  
  
Fitz restlessly scratches his arms. "I want to help you, how can I help you?" He asks almost desperately.

Jemma smiles at him. "We could go to bed. Maybe cuddle a bit? I bet that would help."

Fitz nods relieved. "Yes. That. We do that. Lie down."

She grins. "Aye, Captain."  


*

After this everything happens surprisingly quick.  
But after all, they handle it quite professional, Jemma thinks.

Fitz calls the ambulance.   
Jemma trys to stay calm and breathe through the pain.  
And suddenly, she's at the hospital.

*

"I think I'm scared now. Like, really scared," Jemma admits quietly. She's lying in her hospital bed and stares at the ceiling.  
The pain comes in waves and they make it difficult for her, to breathe.  
Her heart is beating loud and fast in her chest.   
She swallows and looks at Fitz, who's sitting next to her.

He returns her gaze and smiles at her.

"I’ll stay," he says and takes her hand.

Jemma swallows. "Are you sure?"

"I'll never leave your side again."

"Oh Fitz ... I love you."

"I love you too."

*  
  
In the end, everything is a chaos that she only experiences as a blur through a cloud of pain.   
Frantic movements around her. Voices, imploring and encouraging. Her own noises. Whimpering, moaning and - toward the end - screaming.  
It's so unreal.  
But Fitz's presence is like her anchor.  
He's sitting next to her, holding her hand.  
He's smiling down at her and she drowns in his eyes, which are full of confidence and love.

She squeezes his hand so tight that it has to hurt. Her nails leave scratches on his skin. But he doesn't complain. Not once.  
He just strokes over her heated, sweaty skin with his thumb and says, "I'm here, Jemma. I'm here. I love you …"  
The words are almost hypnotic.  
She has no feeling for the time that passes around her.  
She just goes on. Just does, what she needs to do. She presses.

Then there's a scream, the pain subsides into a distant throbbing and someone - Finally. _Finally_. - pushes her baby into her arms.

"There you are", Jemma mumbles in tears and strokes a fingertip over the cheek of her daughter carefully. "There you are."

She smiles up at Fitz. Tears are running over the face of her husband, but his eyes are focused on their daughter and he's beaming and everything is alright.  


*

"She's so tiny," Daisy whispers, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Oh she's perfect."

"She has your eyes, Turbo," Mack says, grinning at Fitz, who is standing next to them, a proud smile on his face, though his slightly glassy eyes reflect his exhaustion.

"But she has Jemma's nose," Daisy declares, giggling. "That's definitely Jemma's nose."  
She can't take her eyes off the sleeping baby in the cradle.

Maggie sleeps calmly and peacefully. She doesn't feel disturbed by the agents around her, all focused on the little creature that has entered the world only a few days ago.  
It takes a long time for Coulson to shoo the whole group out of the bedroom, remarking that the young parents should really rest now.

Before Daisy leaves, she hugs Fitz and murmurs in his ear, "I'm happy for you. You will be a good father, Fitz. Thanks for all the letters you sent me. Keep writing if you want. I would be happy to hear some stories about your first baby adventures."

Fitz smiles and whispers back, "I'll write. Thanks, Daisy. And see you soon."

She gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek.  
Then she's gone.

They are all gone, and Fitz feels the exhaustion overwhelm him.  
He yawns and walks to the bed. But before he lays down next to Jemma, who's already sleeping soundly, he bends over Maggie again.  
He runs a finger gently over her cheek and whispers: "Good night, Maggie. Welcome to the family, little star."  
Maggie chuckles quietly in her sleep.  
Fitz smiles and finally lies down.

He turns to Jemma and looks at her until his eyes fall shut.  
His dreams are full of images of the future that is awaiting them.


	18. Neglect (Short Series - Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz leaves the team. He leaves behind an alarming letter and a desperate Jemma. Mack is determined to find Fitz with the help of an old friend. (Post s5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first part of another (hella angsty) short series.  
> Probably inspired by what's happening between Fitz and Mack at the moment.  
> I honestly think this chapter is quite weak and has a few plot holes (lol), but I promise the next chapters will be better :3 (this one is basically just "how do i get Hunter into this story")  
> Please excuse any mistakes, it's Eurovision and I'm a bit distracted :D (Also I'm anxiously waiting for AoS renewal)  
> I will look over it again tomorrow.  
> You can always tell me about mistakes, I would be grateful :3  
> I hope you enjoy.

"Fitz is gone."  
  
"What do you mean  Fitz is gone?" Mack looks up from where he's working on one of the cars, wiping his oily hands on his pants.  
  
Daisy's standing in front of him, biting her lip. Her face is a mixture of disbelief and worry.  
"He is gone. Like ... really gone, you understand? Coulson said I should ask you if you've seen Fitz lately. He somehow managed to dodge all the cameras."  
  
Mack crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. A bad feeling slowly rises in him. "Wait. Wait a moment. Fitz is gone. Okay. But ... how do you know he didn't just want to get some fresh air?"  
  
Daisy swallows. She holds out a crumpled piece of paper to Mack. "Because he left a letter."   
  
*  
  
Mack reads the short letter.  
Multiple times.  
He reads it until he can almost memorize the words.  
  
_I decided to leave the team._  
_Now that we have saved the world, I have fulfilled my purpose. There's no reason to bother everyone with my presence any longer._  
_Don't look for me._  
  
_PS: Take care of Jemma._  
  
Mack drops the note. He feels slightly sick.  
  
He looks at Daisy, who is still standing in front of him, chewing on a fingernail.  
Her face is reflecting an inner conflict.  
  
"Since when is he gone?" Mack asks.  
  
"He probably snuck out during the night. Simmons woke up and he was gone. The note was on Coulson's desk."  
She clears her throat and asks softly, "Do you think ... you don't think he would do anything, um, anything stupid, right?"  
What she means but doesn't dare to say is obvious.  
  
Mack thinks about it for a moment.  
He looks down at the words, which look like they were scribbled hastily, and remembers how Fitz has been acting the last few days.  
How he had always stood behind Simmons.  
How his lips had moved, as if he was talking to himself.  
How he sometimes looked back over his shoulder, seemingly into the void.  


Guilt adds to the worry Mack  feels  
Why did he never say anything ...  
He noticed the dark circles under Fitz's eyes that were obvious signs of insomnia.  
He noticed the steady drop in weight.  
He noticed.  
  
He swallows, when he realises that the answer to Daisy's question is yes. Yes, Mack believes Fitz could actually do something to himself.  
He gets up hastily and asks, "Where is Simmons?"  
  
Daisy swallows. "In her room. But ... she's not okay. She was crying when I looked for her. Mack, what do you want to do now?"   
  
Mack looks at her seriously.  
"I have to find him. Quickly."  
  
*

Simmons is sitting on her bed, her head buried in her arms.

Mack lightly knocks on the door frame, but she doesn't react.  
He sighs and enters the room.  
"Hey," he says softly.

Simmons glimpses at him. Her eyes are red.  
"Mack ..."

Mack's stomach cramps painfully when he sees the helpless despair in Simmons eyes.  
He sits down carefully beside her on the bed and puts a hand on her shoulder. "How are you doing?"

She sobs and shakes her head.  
"I just can't believe he ... that he just left," she says through her tears. "I thought we wouldn’t do that anymore ... leave each other's side. And ... and somehow I can't help but see the whole thing as a belated punishment. For leaving him when ... when he needed me and - God, that's so selfish. How can I think of myself now, I ..."

"Simmons ... Jemma," Mack interrupts, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Nobody will condemn you for how you feel or what you think. Who knows what state Fitz was in when he made that decision. We can't look into his head. How stable do you think he is right now?

Simmons shakes her head and half-heartedly wipes the tears from her face. "I dont know. I really don't know it. I mean ... I know he heard voices and basically despised himself. I wanted him to have a chance to recover now that we don't have to save the world anymore. I thought we could go somewhere ... alone, together and try to process this whole thing. But now ... he's gone now. He's just gone."  
She looks at him and swallows. "And I'm incredibly afraid I'd never see him again, Mack. How am I supposed to bear this? How?"

Mack strokes his hand over her back, hoping to provide at least a bit comfort.  
"I'll find him," he says softly.

Simmons eyes widen. "How?" She breathes. "He could be anywhere."

Mack smiles crookedly.  
"I know a specialist."

*

He tells Coulson about his plan.

Coulson gives him permission to leave the base, but asks him to keep him and the rest of the team up to date.  
He informs Mack that they will search for Fitz too. Daisy will check  cameras again.

Macks nods and can't help noticing, how tired Coulson looks.  
God, they all could use a vaccation  ...

*

Hunter jumps out of the car, a rifle loosely over his shoulder and a big grin on his sunburned face. He is wearing sunglasses and a shirt with "Womanizer" written on it in broad black letters.

Mack rolls his eyes involuntarily. Apparently, at least one thing hasn’t  changed.

Hunter slaps him hard on the shoulder and hugs him. "I missed you, big one!"

Mack returns the hug. He is in fact happy to see Hunter, and not only because Hunter with his countless contacts all over the continent will be the most helpful partner for this mission. Because he really missed his friend, and is incredibly thankful that Hunter came as soon as he called    
  
Hunter backs away after a short moment and eyes him curiously.  
"So," he says the next moment, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck dramatically. "Who are we hunting?"

"Fitz," Mack says dryly.

"Alri - Wait. What?!" Hunter almost drops his gun. "Woah, what happened?"

Mack sighs. "Fitz has disappeared. He left a letter saying roughly that he thinks we'd be better off without him."

Hunter blinks. "Wow. Okay. That's ... unexpected. He left Simmons alone?"

"Yes."

"That's tough," Hunter says slowly. "But ... maybe he just needs some time for himself? Maybe he will come back by himself when he is ready ... "

Mack shakes his head doubtfully. "The whole thing is complicated, man ... I'm not sure if Fitz is currently capable of making rational decisions. He's ... I don't know how much you know, but ... there was a pretty ugly incident. Something that has to do with split personality."

Hunter rubs his neck and frowns. "Fitz mentioned something ... when I got him out of this jail. He said he may have schizophrenia. And that he thinks he has a dark side or something. I advised him to try to accept it and adapt to it. Light and shadow, you understand? You need to balance it."

"Well ... that didn't work so well, apparently. Fitz had a breakdown, changed into this other personality, cut Daisy open while she was conscious and pulled out an alien device that had her powers suppressed," Mack says dully. 

Hunter looks at him completely speechless for a moment. "Shit," he says matter of factly.

"Yeah." Mack rubs the back of his head and sighs. "Something like that didn't happen again ... but he's not the same, man. I think he's hallucinating again. Like back then, shortly after his accident. And Simmons thinks that he hates himself. He's pretty messed up ... I'm not a professional, but lets just say, I think he should be in therapy. All those things he went through ... and now this split personality thing. I don't know what he's going to do, when he's all alone ..."  


"You think he could harm himself?" Hunter asks, frowning.  


"Yes."

Hunter bites his lip. "Well ... What are we waiting for then?" He finally asks and goes back to the car. "Lets go."

Mack follows him.  
He is filled with both concern and hope.  
One thought consumes his whole mind: Don't let it be too late.


	19. Relief (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter and Mack find Fitz. Fitz is losing a battle. Mack has to find the right words. (Sequel to "Neglect")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter this time :3  
> I hope there aren't too many mistakes. It was hard to translate some parts of it.  
> I hope you like it.  
> By the way, I love comments. Any kind of comments ^^
> 
> Please note that this chapter contains suicidal thoughts and suicidal behaviour!

Fitz stares at the bottle in his hand.  
  
It’s night and he is standing in the middle of an empty street.  
He’s cold. He shivers and realizes that he is only wearing a thin shirt.  
He looks up at the sky.  
There are no stars.  
Clouds cover them.  
Somewhere, a dog barks loudly.  
  
He looks back at the bottle in his hand and blinks in confusion.  
Scotch. It's Scotch.  
He shudders.  
His father liked Scotch the most. Unwanted, deep buried memories are stirring in Fitz's mind.  
He shakes his head and moans when the world starts to blur before his eyes. He feels slightly sick. And dizzy.  
Did he …  
Did he drinkit?  
The bottle is half empty.  
  
Fitz doesn’t understand.  
He searches in his head for memories of going outside and buying the bottle.  
He doesn’t find them.  
He finds nothing.  
Panic starts to creep in every cell of his mind.  
  
He takes a shaking breath and raises his head.  
He looks around.  
Looks for something he knows.  
In front of him is a motel.  
He remembers, relieved, that he has a room in this motel.  
He slowly walks towards the tall building.  
  
He takes the bottle with him.  
  
*  
  
Fitz is back in his room.  
When he washes his face in the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror, he sees terrified, bloodshot eyes. He hates the sight.  
But it could be worse.  
He could see Him.  
The Doctor.  
  
Fitz shudders.  
It would not be the first time since he's here.  
The last few days have been a mixture of desperation, tears, defiance, and the realization that he is in fact losing his mind.  
The Hallucinations are merciless and persistent. They are not driven out by shouting. They don’t disappear even when you throw things at them. They are like parasites that appear whenever you are about to finally give up.

Fitz sighs and sits down on the bed.  
He hides his face in his hands.  
  
He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand it.  
He wanted to be alone because he thought he could fix whatever was wrong with him.  
He thought he could fight his problems.  
He even thought he that maybe could go back to the team when he isn't ... when he isn't broken anymore.  
But soon he realized that it was pointless.  
He’s not strong enough.  
He has never been strong enough.  
The Doctor thinks the same.  
The Doctor also knows quite a simple way out ...  
  
When Fitz isn’t haunted by the hallucinations and the voice in his head, he longs for the team. Longs for Jemma …  
  
Jemma.  
  
Her name demands to be expressed. There is a whole block of notepads on the bedside table.  
He writes her name on the top notepad.  
He doesn’t know why.  
He just does it.  
He misses her.  
He knows that he will miss her forever.  
He writes her name again.  
  
And then, the next moment, he doesn’t know anything at all.  
  
*  
  
"Are you sure?" Mack asks doubtfully as he looks at the motel in front of them.  
  
"My contact is absolutely sure," Hunter replies. "And he is absolutely reliable."  
  
"Alright. Which number?"  
  
"25."  
  
"OK. Let’s give it a try." Mack goes ahead. He is afraid. Afraid of finding nothing at all and afraid of finding too much.  
  
*

"Shit," Hunter says dryly when he opens the door and enters the room.  
  
Mack goes after him and freezes.  
He swallows.  
  
The small room is a mess.  
Notepads are scattered everywhere on the floor, between clothes and empty pizza boxes. An empty bottle of scotch is on the bedside table.  
On the bed is a suitcase. It definitely belongs to Fitz.  
Mack doesn’t know what he should feel first.  
Relief or more concern.  
  
Fitz is nowhere to be seen.  
  
Hunter takes a look into the bathroom and shakes his head. "What are we going to do now?" He asks, scratching his neck.  
  
"We keep looking for him," Mack says absently, picking up one of the notepads. He frowns when he sees the small, crooked letters. _Jemma_ is written on the paper. About 50 times.  
  
"Where? What if he’s already miles away," Hunter says worriedly.  
  
Mack thinks for a moment. "I don’t think so. It doesn’t look like he’s gone for long. You go down and search the area. I ask the people here in the building."  
  
"Okay. I'll call you if I find him,” Hunter says and leaves the room in a hurry.  
Mack drops the notepad, sighing and goes to search for anyone he could ask for Fitz.  
  
There are only a few people on the floor. Most of them look like they urgently need a bath. Or a proper meal. None of them saw Fitz. None, except for a man who wears a coat full of stains and constantly pulls up his nose. "Yes, I've seen that man," he says to Mack's description. "Went upstairs."  
  
"Upstairs?" Mack asks, frowning.  
  
"To the roof. Just arrived when I left. I wanted to see the stars, you know." He chuckles softly. Mack pulls himself together. Patience, he tells himself. Slowly he asks: "How did he look like? Was he … did he seem to be confused or something?”  
  
"Oh, yeah, man. I think he didn’t even notice me. His eyes were somehow dead,” the man says matter of factly and coughs.  
  
Roof. Dead eyes. _Roof._  
  
Mack swallows. His stomach cramps painfully as he puts the pieces together.  
  
"Thanks," he says hastily, forcing his way past the man to the stairs that lead upwards.  
He sprints them up and makes a desperate plea to the God he still clings to, in spite of almost apocalypses caused by aliens or madmen with godlike powers.  
  
_Don’t let it be too late._  
_This one time._  
_Don’t let it be too late._  
  
*  
  
When Mack is finally on the roof, it starts to rain.  
The cold drops trickle down his neck.  
He doesn’t notice it in his burning concern.  
He looks around.  
Looks for Fitz.  
And when he finally sees him, his heart seems to miss a beat.  
  
Fitz is standing - far away, too far away - on the edge of the roof, with his back to Mack. He only wears a light shirt. His posture is loose, resigned  
  
Mack swallows. He suddenly realizes that he has to find the right words now. He has to reach Fitz. Otherwise, he could lose his best friend today.  
He closes his eyes for a moment and tries to gather his thoughts. He silently counts to three. Then he opens his eyes again, squints against the rain and clears his throat.  
"Hello Fitz," he says cautiously.  
  
He sees Fitz flinching and involuntarily holds his breath.  
  
Fitz turns his head to him and his eyes widen slightly.  
"Mack?"  
  
"Hey, Fitz," Mack forces a smile. "What are you doing up here?"  
  
Fitz blinks at him. The question seems to confuse him.  
"I … I don’t know how I got up here," he finally says flatly and looks back over the edge. "But ... it's fitting, isn’t it? Yes. He always finds ... always finds ... the right, uh, ..."  
He presses a trembling hand against his forehead and groans.  
  
Mack swallows. It's even worse than he imagined.  
"Fitz ... why don’t we go inside before we both catch a cold? We can talk. About this. Can think about how to go on.”  
  
Fitz looks back at him. He frowns.  
"You ... you shouldn’t be here, you know? I said ... don’t look for me, that's what I said, isn’t it?"  
  
“We are a family, Fitz. We take care of each other. You know that.” Mack hesitates for a moment. Then he adds cautiously, "Jemma is worried."  
  
He sees Fitz flinching at her name and hears him sigh.  
Hope is stirring in him.  
If someone can save Fitz, it's Jemma.  
His anchor.  
  
"Jemma," Fitz says barely audible. It sounds desperate and longing.  
  
Mack nods. "Yes. She ... she wants you to come home, Fitz. Do you remember your promise? You promised you won’t leave each other’s side again.”  
  
Fitz shakes his head slightly. "I love her," he mumbles. "I love her so much that I can’t stand it when she's in danger. When I'm with her, she’s not safe. She is not safe, Mack."  
  
"Fitz ..." Mack feels the glimpse of hope inside him vanishing again.  
  
"Do you know how it is? How is it when you wake up or show up somewhere and have no idea how you got there?" Fitz asks and begins to scratch his arms restlessly.  
  
Mack shakes his head. "No," he says softly. "I don’t know what it’s like.”  
  
"Well ... I’ve lived it since yesterday. I am ... I think I was lying on the bed, and suddenly I was on the street. I have no idea what happened. There was a bottle in my hand. A bottle of Scotch. It was half-empty. Scotch, Mack. I had half a bottle of Scotch in my hand and I don’t know ... I don’t fucking know how that happened." Fitz lets out a helpless sob and Mack raises a hand.  
"Fitz ... we can handle this. We can get you help, alright? Let us help ..."  
  
"What if it's a knife next time? What if I wake up and Jemma is ... what if I hurt Jemma without realizing it, and ... God, no." Fitz stumbles a dangerous step back and Mack gasps.  
"That won’t happen, Fitz. You won’t hurt her," he says frantically.  
  
"But _He_ will," whispers Fitz, barely audible. "He will do it. He’s about to take control. There's only one way to stop Him." He looks over the edge of the roof and exhales softly.  
  
Mack feels like he's losing.  
He takes a deep breath and says, "Fitz ... The Doctor is not real. He’s something that your mind created because you experienced something horrible. But you can fight it. Because _you_ are real. Our family is real. We can fight it together. You don’t want to do this. You know you don’t want to do this. Think of Jemma. She loves you, Fitz. And you love her. You are a team. And you will always be one. You will defeat this together. And we are there too. We are a family. I know ... I know the last time was tough. We didn't take the time to look after each other. But we can take this time now. I promise."  
Fitz turns more to Mack and Mack almost begins to cry with relief.  
"We are friends, Fitz. We will always be friends. I … I don’t want to lose my best friend. Let me help …”

“I’m ... your best friend?” Fitz asks softly.

“Yes you are, Turbo. You are”, Mack says and smiles despite his panic. “You are my best friend. And you are part of my family. We can do it. Together.” He reaches out his hand. “Please.”

Fitz’s body trembles and he sways in the nothing. Mack's heart seems to miss a beat when he sees him hanging over the edge - but then Fitz takes his foot off the edge and shakily steps back. He takes two staggering steps towards Mack, then he sinks to the ground in slow motion, with a sound that resembles a wounded animal. The next moment, Mack is beside him and pulls him into his arms. He doesn’t feel Fitz’s tears on his skin, because he is already soaked in the rain, which is still beating down on them.  
  
He holds Fitz and murmurs words without meaning.  
  
"I think I need help," Fitz whispers at some point.  
  
"I know," Mack replies, hugging him even tighter. “I know …”

 He picks up his cell phone and writes a short message to Hunter.  
  
*  
  
It doesn't take Hunter long to reach the roof.  
When he runs to them, his eyes are full of concern and relief.  
  
He falls to his knees next to Mack and Fitz.  
"Hey buddy. We should really get you out of this terrible rain. Can you stand up?" He asks and puts a hand on Fitz’s trembling shoulder.  
  
Fitz throws him a tired look and shakes his head. "No. Sorry ..."  
  
"It's alright. Don't worry about it." Hunter kneels and carefully lays one of Fitz's arms over his shoulder. Mack supports his other side. Together they pull Fitz to his feet and slowly walk towards the internal staircase.  
  
*  
  
The streets are almost empty.  
They are driving through a barren landscape. Every now and then naked trees stand out like skeletons on both sides of the street. Winter is near. Mack doesn't like winter. The cold, dark season is bound up with his loss. In winter he thinks the most about Hope.  
He sighs and realizes how they all carry their own heavy burden.  
Each of them is damaged in some way.  
Maybe that's why they attract each other like sad, scarred magnets.  
  
He side-glances at Hunter, who is staring at the street, and clears his throat.  
"What now? Back to the others? Or should we let Fitz get checked out first? We could find a hospital ..."  
  
"Hospital? Now way. I won't get someone out of jail again. Mack, we have no idea what your current status is. Maybe the Coulson Club is still considered 'enemies of the state'. Maybe you're still on some list. In a hospital they want names. They want backstories. We could just as well show up at the door of the nearest FBI agency and ..."  
  
"Alright. I got it. What do we do then?"  
  
"I'll call Bob. She's working in a clinic at the moment and has various useful contacts. She can give Fitz a physical and maybe find something to help with his hallucinations and those strange ... memory gaps. Then we drive back to the others and think about our next steps. I'm sure Coulson knows someone who works in the psych-industry." Hunter's face darkens and his hands tighten around the steering wheel. "And he will have to explain some things to me. For example, how it could be that we just had to get one of its agents down from a damn rooftop. I feel like he's asking for a punch in the face ..."  
  
Mack frowns. "It's not Coulson's fault. He almost died. The world was ending, man. We all reached our limit, I guess. We all made mistakes. Me too. I said things to Fitz that weren't ... let's just say that I didn't find the right words back then."

"Maybe you all need a good punch in the face," Hunter says drily. But then he shakes his head and sighs. "Sorry. When I'm stressed, I become obnoxious. You know that."  
  
"Yeah. Sadly, I do."  
  
Hunter grins crookedly and then stops at the side of the road.  
"Here, take over a little. I need a break." He gets up. "I want to make sure Fitz is alright."  
  
"Okay," Mack replies and moves into the driver’s seat.  
  
*  
  
Fitz is lying on his back on the mattress in the back of the SUV.  
His eyes are open.  
His hands are clenched to fists.  
  
Hunter sits down beside him and clears his throat.  
"Hey. How you're doing, buddy?"

Fitz doesn't answer at first.  
He just stares at Hunter and swallows.  
"I'm sorry," he mumbles eventually. "I'm sorry you had to witness ... uh ... this."  
  
Hunter shakes his head. He thinks for a moment. Then he says, "You know ... it's okay not to be okay. It's okay to need help. Everyone needs help at some point. Did I ever tell you about the time that I couldn’t save a girl from an explosion? It still haunts me. I see her face,in the night when there's nothing to do. When there's no distraction." Hunter shudders and sighs. "When the nightmares got so bad that I tried to stop sleeping, Bob forced me to see a therapist."  
  
Fitz blinks. He looks surprised. "You ... you went to a therapist?"  
  
"Yes. And it helped. It helped to talk about what happened. I were sitting in this armchair like a picture of misery and was crying my eyes out. But after that I didn't feel like a failure, you know? I felt better. And when I came back a few days later, I felt even better. It helps. And it doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you a bad agent. It only makes you stronger.  
Oh, and by the way," he adds. "Bobbi was also in therapy. After the thing with Ward. You know, some people just get very good at hiding what's happening inside their head. You wouldn’t believe who was or still is in therapy in this damn Super-Agents Club. Or who takes some form of medication. You're not the first and you will not be the last,” Hunter says firmly.  
  
"Thanks, Hunter," Fitz says, looking down at his hands. "That ... thanks."  
  
"You’re welcome." Hunter pats him on the shoulder. "Try to take a nap, alright? We will drive for a while."

"Okay." Fitz closes his eyes immediately. It's obvious how exhausted he is.  
  
Hunter looks at him briefly. Then he goes back to the front and reaches for his cell phone to call Bobbi.  
  
Outside, it starts to snow.


	20. Confused (Mack & Fitz Post s5 / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Season Finale (Spoilers): Mack sees Fitz for the first time and he isn't prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I started another short series - but after the finale there are other things that have to be written.  
> Please be aware that this chapter contains description of THAT scene.  
> But it ends hopeful.
> 
> Are you as heartbroken as I am after the finale?  
> Everytime I think of it I feel slightly sick.  
> I really didn't expect what they did to Fitz ...  
> I try to see some positive things about it. Like that they maybe have a second chance to prevent Fitz's break.  
> Anyway, I would love some feedback <3

Mack hesitates.   
He's standing in front of Jemma's room and nervously rubs his forearms.   
Several times he reaches out a hand to knock on the door.  Pulls it back, when the courage leaves him again.  Swallows hard.

He's scared.  
It's a fear he can't quite define.  
It's just there and controls his every thought. 

He takes a deep breath.  
And finally, finally, he finds the courage to knock.  
A quiet, restrained _Yes_ comes from the other side.  


Mack swallows.  
He carefully opens the door and slowly enters the room.

And there he is.  
He's sitting on the bed next to Jemma, holding her hand.  He's looking at her as if she were the only light in a universe of darkness.

Fitz.

Mack can't suppress a breathless gasp.  
To see Fitz now - Alive. _Alive_.  \- feels like a punch in the stomach.  
In a matter of seconds the memories race through Mack's head.

 

_His breath falters as the rubbles rain down on Fitz. He somehow knows, he instantly knows, as he hears May screaming Fitz's name, as they rush to help him, that this won't have a good ending. _

_He still feels a deceptive glimmer of hope as he sees that Fitz is conscious, is talking to them, is moving - but all the warm hope in his body is erased by an icy lump of horror as he sees the wound. The wound and the blood. So much blood.  
_

_He holds Fitz's hand and murmurs words that come from the depths of his heart while everything in him wants to scream. Grief mingles with anger and disbelief.  This should be it?  After everything they went through?  _ This?

_He doesn't have much time to think about it, b ecause Fitz slips away from him so fast that many words remain unspoken.  Words Mack should have said earlier._

_He sees the light in Fitz's eyes fading, hears him breathe in one last time and feels numb. So infinitely numb.  He sits there and stares at Fitz's face, which looks peaceful for the first time in weeks.  He sits there until May gently pulls him away.  Until strange people surround them.  Until at some point all the rubbles have vanished and the full damage becomes visible._

_He stands on the side and vomits several times while May lays a trembling hand on his shoulder. While someone mercifully puts a blanket over Fitz's body._

_He holds a crying Jemma in his arms. He holds a crying Jemma and feels numb ...  
_

 

The memories are merciless and painful.  
They overwhelm him and he hides his face in his hands for a moment because he's sure it's a grimace of horror ...

Fitz looks at him.  His face is a vivid mixture of joy, worry and confusion.  
"Mack?"

Mack ...  
_Mack I think my leg's broken ..._

Jemma also looks at Mack and swallows.  She knows.  She sees the pain in Mack's eyes.  She squeezes Fitz's hand and lets go.  
"I'll leave you alone for a moment."

She quickly leaves the room.  As she passes Mack, she gives him a sympathetic look and touches his upper arm lightly.  Then she's gone.

Mack is alone with Fitz.

Mack closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.  
He tries to collect himself.  
When he opens his eyes again, they are burning with unshed tears.

Fitz looks at him and finally gets up from the bed.  He rubs the back of his head and smiles crookedly.  "Hey."

Mack nods at him.  He swallows.  
"Hey."

The next moment he can't hold back anymore. He bridges the distance between them and pulls Fitz into a tight hug.  
Fitz flinches in surprise, but he lets it happen and hesitantly puts a hand on Mack's back.

For a moment, they  stand like that in the middle of the room.

When they separate, Mack clears his throat.  
"I'm sorry, this is ... it's not easy for me," he says.

Fitz nods. He looks aside and swallows.  
"Jemma told me what happened. Well, she didn't tell me everything yet. Just ... the most important things. It's ... it's strange to think that I've died and yet am here ... " He shakes his head helplessly. "I don’t quite understood it yet. Or processed. I need more time."

Mack smiles weakly. He understands. The same applies to himself.  
"I just want you to know ... I'm so glad to see you, Turbo. Unbelievably glad."

He reaches out a hand and lays it gently on Fitz's shoulder.  
His next words are prepared.  
Ever since they left to find Fitz in space, he has them in his head.  
"If you want to talk about anything, if there's something that ... that worries you or scares you, then please, talk about it. With me, or with Jemma or someone else. We are here for you, alright? Don't forget that."

Fitz looks at him. He seems confused and surprised, but at the same time touched.  
"Thanks, Mack," he says softly. "I appreciate that."

Mack nods and takes his hand off his shoulder.  
"I'll let you alone now. You surely have a lot to think about," he says, takes a last look at Fitz - _he's here. He is alive ..._ \- and walks to the door.

"Mack." Fitz's voice, a little restrained, holds Mack back.

He stops and looks over his shoulder. "Yes?"

Fitz looks at him and sighs. He seems to be searching for words for a second and starts fidgeting nervously with his fingers.  
"Something has happened," he finally says carefully. Hesitantly. "With ... with me. I think I'm not ... Mack, I think I didn't come out of the framework in one piece." He looks at the floor. "I know how that sounds," he mumbles.

Mack swallows. He shakes his head.  
"No, Turbo. Don't worry about how it sounds. Say what's on your mind. I listen. I want to help you. That's what a family does. They help each other."

Fitz looks at him with wide open eyes. He looks vulnerable and desperate. He looks like he's screaming for help inwardly while he's trying to not show it outwardly.  
  
_How did I miss this back then_ , Mack thinks with a hint of guilt. _How did I miss in what a state he'd been._  
  
Finally Fitz says, "I think The Doctor somehow came with me. Not as a person. But as part of me. And I don't know how to handle it ... "  
He sinks back onto the bed, seemingly exhausted and sighs heavily.

Mack feels haunted by memories again. This time it's the memories of Fitz's break and the incident with Daisy.  
Fitz doesn't know about it yet.  
Maybe it's better that way.  
Maybe he shouldn't know.  
Maybe he should get the chance to work through his trauma without having to fear that he might hurt somebody.  
But there is still plenty of time to think about _how_ to help Fitz.  
Now he has to listen first.  
Has to show that he's there.  
That he can help.

So he sits down on the bed next to Fitz and listens.  
He learns that Fitz spent six months in a military prison. (General Hale is to blame for that. Of course.)  
He learns that Fitz searched a way to find the team. That at the same time he tried to find out what was wrong with him. He learns about hallucinations and voices. About devastating thoughts and the feeling of helplessness. Worthlessness.  


Mack listens and hopes that this time he will be able to help Fitz with his pain and fears.  
This time.


	21. Anger (Jemma & May Post s5 / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Season Finale: Jemma says that she's alright. But she really isn't. She isn't alright at all. May helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really satisfied with this one but it somehow wanted to be written.  
> I think I wanted Jemma to be allowed to be sad and angry.  
> Starts very angsty and sad but ends hopeful.

It's middle of the night and it's silent.  
It's not the calm, familiar silence that usually accompanies the late hours and is associated with the feeling of comfortable drowsiness.  
No.  
It's the silence of grief.  It's heavy and suffocating.  It crawls into every corner.  It comes and stays, taking every warm feeling with it.  
  
Jemma is lying on the bed, pressing one of Fitz's shirts to her chest.  
Her eyes are open, but she sees nothing.  
She feels empty.  Numb.  
Feels like she's falling endlessly.  
  
It was only the first day.  
The first day in a world without Fitz.  
And she can't take it anymore.  
  
Jemma sits up slowly.  Her whole body feels heavy. She has never been so tired in her life before. But she can't sleep.   
The constant pain she's feeling in the depth of her heart makes it difficult for her to breath.  
She looks around and swallows.  
She can't stand to be in this room anymore.  
Everything here reminds her of Fitz.  
When she closes her eyes, it's as if he's beside her.  As if she could hear his steady breathing.  As if she could feel his warmth.  
  
Jemma flees.  
She flees the room and out into the hallway.  
  
Nobody is to be seen. They are surely already sleeping. Or mourning alone.  
Over the day, they'd came to her.  
They asked her if she needed anything.  
If she was alright.  
Her answer always was, "Yes. I'm alright. Thanks."  
And she forced a tense smile on her face.  
But of course she's not alright.  
She's screaming inside her mind and doesn't know what to do.  
  
She's almost running through the hallway by now.  
She has no real goal.  
She only goes forward.  Backwards is not an option.  She can't go back to the pictures in front of her eyes.  
  
At some point she stands in the small training room.  She stares at the punching bag that hangs from the ceiling in the middle.  
Jemma approaches it, remembering the one time she had reluctantly participated in one of the self-defence lessons that May had given to Daisy and, increasingly, to Fitz.  
Jemma had never been good in hand-to-hand combat.  
That's why she had practised much more with firearms.  
But on that one day, when Fitz had shown her how to make a proper fist and guided her in hitting, his face a mixture of excitement and pride, it had at least been a bit of fun for her.  At least until May had decided to show them some throws.  Even days later, Jemma's back had hurt every morning.  
She sighs.

Everything in her life is connected to Fitz.  
  
This is a realization that should have felt wonderful.  But now it feels like a slap in the face.  It hurts.  
  
And she can't take it anymore.  
  
She lunges out and hits the punching bag.  
She doesn't use a lot of strength.  The bag in front of her sways only faintly, barely noticeable, back and forth.  
But the hit triggers something in her.  
  
The grief and disappointment she feels are now mixed with a dull anger.  
Anger at the one inexplicable force that seems to pull them apart, whatever they do.  
Anger at Ward, who ruthlessly destroyed everything on his way.  
Anger at Radcliffe, who brought Aida into their life.  
Even anger at S.H.I.E.L.D.  that takes a lot and gives little.  
  
But the worst kind of anger is the anger she feels at herself.  
She talked Fitz into this.  
_Adventure._  
That's what she called it back then.  
_It will be an adventure._  
  
She hits the bag again, so hard that her hand starts to throb in distant pain.  
She doesn't want it anymore.  This adventure.  
She wants Fitz back.  She wants her husband back.  
She wants to hold him and never let go again.   
She wants to protect him from the pitfalls of this life and flee with him until no one finds them anymore.  
  
She hits the bag again.  
  
_She wants him back.  
__God, she wants him back._  
  
And again.  
  
_It's not fair._  


She kicks the bag.  
  
_He'd gone through enough._  
They _had gone through enough._  
  
She attacks the bag with punches and kicks, panting.  
  
_Enough._  
  
She only realizes that she's crying when she's out of breath.   
She sinks to the ground, wrapping her arms around herself. Her body is shaken by sobs.  
_ I want him back.  
_ _Give him back to me._  
_I can't live without him ... I can't._  
  
At some point there's a hand on her shoulder.  
Someone is kneeling beside her.  
Someone is running a hand through her hair.  
Jemma involuntarily leans into the touch and weeps.  She looks up.  The person in front of her is blurry.  She only sees her through a veil of tears for a moment.   
But she recognizes the voice.  
  
It's May.

"Let it out," May says calmly.  "You have to let it out.  Otherwise, it will burn you from the inside out.  Believe me.  I know."  
She pulls Jemma into a hug, and she lets it happen. She presses her face against May's chest, closing her eyes, feeling herself slowly calming down.  
May just holds her, her warmth is comforting and calming.  
Finally, when the tears stop coming, they separate.  
May looks at Jemma, reaches out a hand to her and and nods encouragingly.  
"Stand up."  
  
Jemma hesitates.  She looks into May's eyes, which are red-rimmed and tired. Full of grief and sorrow.  
She swallows and takes May's hand. Lets herself be pulled on her feet.  
  
May faces her and raises both hands.  She nods at Jemma.  "Try to hit me."  
  
Jemma hesitates.  She raises her own slightly trembling hands and sniffs.  
  
May waits patiently.  She nods as Jemma takes a step towards her and tries to land a blow against her neck.  
May blocks the blow and takes a step back.  "Good. Go on," she says curtly.  
  
Jemma wipes the tears from her face and hits again.  
  
The room fills with their breaths, which are becoming increasingly heavy, and the sounds of their shifting feet on the mats. Sometimes, May stops and explains a certain technique to Jemma, with a calm and firm voice.  
  
At some point, when Jemma can barely breathe anymore, they sit down on the floor and rest.  
May hands her a bottle of water and Jemma drinks gratefully.  
May watches her attentively.    
Jemma drops the bottle and looks at May. She swallows. "Thank you", she says quietly.  
May just nods. Then, her eyes widen in surprise. She looks at the door behind Jemma.  
Jemma follows her gaze and sees Robin, standing there and staring at them with wide open eyes.  
  
May frowns.  "Robin.  You should be with your mother."  
  
Robin doesn't react to her words.  Her eyes are fixed on Jemma.   
After a moment she walks straight to her and puts a hand on her shoulder.  
"He's waiting," she says quietly, barely audible.  
  
Jemma frowns.  "What do you mean, Robin?" She asks, though she knows the girl won't give her a direct answer.  
  
But Robin surprises both of them when she says, "The other Fitz. In space."  
  
"Robin," May says quietly.  Her voice sounds stifled.  "Fitz is gone.  He ... "  
  
"No," Robin says and looks at her, shaking her head.  "No."  
She doesn't say more. After one last look at Jemma and a sigh, that sounds both disappointed and irritated, she leaves the room slowly.  
  
There's stunned silence for a moment.  
  
Jemma is disturbed, the mention of Fitz's name making her stomach clench painfully, and yet ... Robin's words make her think.  
  
"I'm sorry, Jemma," May says quietly.  It's the first time that she addresses Jemma by her first name.  She looks behind Robin, her eyes full of pain.  "She doesn't know what she's saying ... It's hard for her to tell the difference between past and future." She gets up and sighs.  "I should make sure she really goes back to her room.  Polly must be sound asleep."  
  
Jemma nods absently.  Robin's words echo in her head.  
  
_ He is waiting.  
Waiting.  
_ _In space …_  
  
And then, suddenly, she understands.  
She remembers.  
She remembers the card they found.  
She remembers what Fitz said about how he managed to find them. How he ...  
How he travelled to the future.  
  
Jemma gasps in surprise and May looks at her, slightly alarmed and questioning.  
  
"May," Jemma says breathlessly.  "May, Fitz is ... I think he's still _here_."


	22. Acceptance (FitzSimmons Post s5 / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma experiences acceptance in different forms while losing, searching and finding Fitz. (Post Season 5 Finale)

First comes denial.  
  
She shakes her head as Mack stops talking.  
"No," she simply says.   
  
"Jemma," Mack breathes, his voice full of pain.  
  
She turns away, looking for work.  She rearranges the medical equipment around Coulson.  Her hand movements are calm.  Almost mechanical.  
She can hear Mack breathing.  It sounds stifled.  
"I'm sorry," he says at some point.  
  
Then he's gone.  
  
Jemma works in silence and waits.  
_   
  
Time flies.  It goes on mercilessly and with it comes increasing clarity.  
  
The work can't take away the memory of Mack's words.  
Her hands start to shake and suddenly she's unbearable cold.  
  
So she stops working.  
  
She sits down on the floor, leaning her back against the wall, staring at the ring on her finger.  
She feels numb.  
Something's missing.  
The loss is a burning hole in her heart.  
  
At some point Daisy is standing in front of her.  
She says nothing.  
She only sinks to the floor next to Jemma.  
  
Their shoulders touch lightly.  
Daisy exudes a slight warmth.  
It's a welcome contrast to the freezing cold in Jemma.  
  
They just sit there for a while.  
  
At some point Jemma looks at Daisy from the side and swallows.  
"He's gone, isn't he?" She asks.  
  
Daisy doesn't answer.  She lowers her head and puts an arm around Jemma.  
  
Silent comfort.  
It's the kind of comfort that tells her to let go.  And she does.  She lets go.  
  
Jemma presses her face against Daisy's shoulder and starts to cry.  
  
And with the tears comes acceptance.  
  
*  
  
First comes fear.  
  
Fear that they are wrong.  
Fear that she's chasing a dream.  
  
But Robin gives her a picture.  A chamber, a person in it.  Fitz's bright blue eyes, captured with childlike precision.  
  
And she puts a hand over her mouth, stifling a sob, not sure what to think.   
  
Because Robin, she remembers, sees past, present, future.  
She doesn't look straight forward.  
She sees a maze.  
  
But then Robin looks at her, her expression serious and at the same time almost pleading.  
"He is out there," she says.  It's one of the few thoughts she expresses.  
  
He is out there.  
Out.  
In space.  
  
She looks from Robin's picture to  the card somebody has sometime pushed into her hand.  
  
_Working on it._  
_Fitz_  
  
And fear mingles with hope.  
  
Hope changes to acceptance when they have the coordinates.  
When they finally know where the ship is.  
When they finally start their journey.  
  
_ I'm on my way, Fitz.  
I'm crossing the galaxy for you. _

*  
  
First comes distance.  
  
It's painful.  
For although he is with her again, he is also far away.  
  
She wakes him from a deep, dreamless sleep and throws him into a world that has passed him by. 

She clings to him and sobs as he breathes her name in confusion, ice crystals in his hair and his hand trembling on her back.  
  
She tells him everything.  
She tells him everything and watches through a veil of tears as his heart breaks.  
  
When she lays a hand on his quivering shoulder, when his sobs are the only sound in the room, she tells herself that they will be okay.  Somehow.  
  
But then the distance comes between them like an unstoppable ghost.  
  
Fitz recoils from her touch.  He withdraws into himself.  
It hurts.  
Jemma misses him.   
  
-  
  
Once Fitz asks her, "How can you stand looking at me?"  
  
"I love you," Jemma says quietly as pain takes her breath away.  
  
Fitz lowers his head and stares at his hands, which are intertwined tightly in his lap.  "You loved _him_.  The man you married.  I am not him.  I am ... an anomaly."  
  
"No," Jemma says.  "You are my life, Fitz.  Don't you understand that we are part of a miracle?  We can have a second chance.  Let us focus on what we have won.  Not on what we lost ... "  
  
Fitz takes a deep breath.  He doesn't look at her as he says, "But what if we didn't win anything? What if our future is already set.  What if ... if I lose control and hurt you?  Jemma ... I can't live with the thought of hurting you.  I can't.  How can you ... you deserve better."  
  
The words cut into Jemma's heart and she can't hold back anymore.  She crosses the distance and pulls Fitz in her arms.  At first he tenses.  But then she feels how all strength leaves his body.  He starts crying in her arms.  
  
"You won't hurt me," she says, holding him tight.  "You are my future, Fitz.  We will shape the future together.  We have already won.  Because we are still here.  And we won't let our future being taken away from us."  
  
And while his tears are soaking her sweater, she makes a decision.  
  
SHIELD has taken enough.  
It's about time that it lets go.  
  
-

They leave.  
  
It looks more like an escape than a goodbye.  
  
Nobody tries to stop them. Nobody wants to try to question their decision.  
  
A cottage in Perthshire.  
Only she and Fitz.  
  
This is how the future begins.  
  
*  
  
First comes pain, grief and laborious processing.  
  
Therapy is never easy.  
She discloses her soul and it hurts.  
But it's necessary.  
And most of the time she feels lighter afterwards.  
  
Fitz comes out of his sessions agitated and pale.  
He never talks about it.  
Most of the time he retreats and sleeps.  
  
She lets him.  
She senses what he's going through in this one long hour.  
  
It's not easy.  
  
There are panic attacks. Nightmares. Side effects of medication. Fears. Worries.  
There are days on which everything seems hopeless and empty.  
Days on which despair takes away all warmth.  
  
It's not easy.  
But it gets better.  
  
Distance changes to slow approach.  
  
They reach for each other, almost desperately.  
Their kisses are passionate and searching.  
They whisper each other's name like a mantra.  
  
They find each other again and again.  
  
Their love, never ended, blossoms anew and with it comes acceptance.  
It's timid.  
Like a delicate flower in her heart.  
But over time, it gets stronger.  
  
She accepts that this is their future.  
And it's bright.  



	23. Building (FitzSimmons - Holding Hands / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times that Fitz and Jemma hold hands. (Post Season 5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little idea I had and spontaneously wrote down.

_The first time it's timid._  
  


It's the first night they spend together in their cottage in Scotland.  
  
This reality still feels fragile to Jemma.  
Like one of her dreams.  
  
But it's real.  
And slowly she begins to understand.  
  
She's laying on her back in the double bed in a bedroom that feels strange and yet already familiar, looking out of the window, lost in vague thoughts.  
The sky changes its colors slowly from mild purple to bright night blue and the stars are clearly visible here.  Here, in the middle of nowhere.  In the middle of hills and deep forests.  
Jemma's heart beats faster at this thought.  An undiscovered world lies outside the door.  A world that isn't about to end tomorrow.  That isn't full of sudden dangers.  
  
Suddenly the wodden floor creaks under slow, careful steps.  
  
Jemma turns her head and sees Fitz approaching.  
  
He stops in front of the bed, silently looking at her.   
In his bright blue eyes uncertainty is mixed with doubt and a timid glimpse of hope.  
The mix of emotions is a reverberation of the last days that have revealed many truths.   
They are clear to Jemma.  Clear pictures in her head and painful emotions in her heart.   
But for Fitz, they are vague shadows, evoked only by Jemma's trembling voice.  
  
He retreated after she'd told him.  
And Jemma allowed it.  
  
They both were together and yet alone after this.  
They both were overwhelmed by the absurd, sad truth that Jemma had carried with her on the long journey through galaxy.  
And they started to feel the crack that runs through their shared history and that they somehow have to overcome.  
They started to suspect that it's going to be harder than ever.  
  
But when they were back on earth, when Jemma asked him, "Will you come with me?"  
  
Fitz said, "Yes."  
  
And so they took the first step towards future together.  
  
  
Now they look at each other in this new room that belongs to them, and Fitz looks so vulnerable that it hurts Jemma deep in her heart.  
  
She smiles up at him, reaching a hand out for him.  
"Come here," she says softly.  "Please."  
  
Fitz swallows.  He looks at her hand. A warm longing joins  the mixture of emotions in his eyes.  
But something is restraining him.  
He still seems to be struggling with something.  
  
Jemma waits.  
Her patient hope mingles with the desperate desire to be close to him again.  Really close.  
Because it's Fitz. The love of her life. She's sure about that.  
  
But he has seen her sadness. Has seen her grief for a man that he never was and never will be.  
And Jemma understands what makes him hesitating.  
She understands it.  
And that's why she can be patient.  
  
But eventually, finally, the tension gives way to him.  He takes her hand and lets her pull him into bed.  
  
They hold hands and lie side by side, their soft breaths almost synchronous.

*

_The second time it's desperate._

 

Jemma gasps softly as a sharp pain rushes through the back of her hand.

Fitz's fingernails dig into her skin, leaving pale red crescents.  He squeezes her hand and it burns.  
But Jemma lets him.

She lets him because she knows she is his connection to reality right now.

He's laying opposite her, curled up in fetal position, caught in a panic attack.  
His face is a mask of fear. Seeing him like this tears Jemma's soul apart piece by piece. She would do anything to take all the pain and fear from him.  
But she can only hope that she can somehow make it more bearable for him. That she can help him to process. To heal.

She buries her free hand in his curls and murmurs words from her heart.  
"I'm here, love. I'm here."

Fitz whimpers.  His whole body is cramping in mute, desperate fear.  
He trembles helplessly.

Jemma slips closer to him until her foreheads gently touch.  
"I'm here," she repeats softly.

Fitz's eyes open slightly.  
He breathes her name in a broken voice and she smiles at him, pressing a gentle kiss on his sweaty forehead.

His breathing calms down slowly.  
His eyes remain focused on her face.  Clinging to it firmly.  Like to an anchor.

She keeps on holding his hand, even after his muscles slowly relax and his grip subsides.  
Her thumb paints gentle circles on his heated skin.

She's there.  
She will always be there.  
Because she knows that they can only win this battle together.

*

_The third time it's loving._

  
  
It's raining easily outside.   
They're laying in bed, talking.

The words come easily this evening.  
They share dreams and fears.  
Truths.

They share joy and pain.

Fitz sometime feels for her hand.  He finds it and squeezes it lightly.  
Jemma smiles and squeezes back.

They look at each other.

"I love you," Fitz says softly.

Jemma's eyes involuntarily fill with tears.  Her heart is full of warmth and hope.

"I love you too", she breathes.  


*

_The fourth time it's passionate. _

 

"Jemma," Fitz says, and it sounds desperate.  "Jemma ... I need ..."

"I know," she says, putting a hand on his cheek.  "I need it too.  I need you."

His eyes search her face restlessly, seeking confirmation, finding nothing but warm love.

Fitz exhales shakily.

The next moment they kiss.  It's no longer careful, no longer searching.  
It is passionate and finding.  
A deliberate loss of control.

Jemma lets herself fall as Fitz's warm lips kiss their way over her body. She starts burning in a painless raging fire.  


Longing is fulfilled in breathless relief.

They move in an unity, giving and taking, knowing each other so well, that they need no words.

Jemma reaches for Fitz's hand. Their fingers intertwine tightly.  They hold on to each other, anchors for their souls and a bridge for their brightly shining feelings.

*

_The fifth time it's promising._

 

"There she is," Jemma says breathlessly, staring at the screen, her eyes full with happy tears.  "This is our baby, Fitz."

"Yes," he breathes and a blissful smile spreads on his face.  He takes her hand and presses a gentle kiss on it.  "There she is …"

They hold hands and look at their miracle.   
The miracle of their future.


	24. Disgust (Daisy & Fitz - Hypersensitivity / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy decides to cook for the team. Her choice to make a fish dish leds to a discovery and a bonding moment between her and Fitz. (Daisy & Fitz)
> 
> This story deals with hypersensitivity (in this case it's heightened sense of smell).

Daisy cooks for the team.  
  
It's supposed to be a surprise. Provoked by May's perfect three-course meal last week, which left a lasting impression and led to various discussions about the cooking skills of the other team members.  
  
Although Daisy admittedly has little experience, the idea of surprising the team with a homemade dish is strangely appealing to her.  
She loves good food and if she would have had the opportunity, she definitely would have learned more about cooking and baking in the past.  
Well, it's never too late to try out new things, is it?  
  
Today she has enough time to try.  
There's no direct threat at the moment. They are finally able to rest for a while.  
And since every team member is minding own business today - no one besides her and Fitz is at the base - she decides to put her plan into action.  
  
After a lot of critical research, she decides on a fish dish.  
Noble enough, but still so simple that she doesn't have to worry about messing it up completely.  
  
Satisfied, after a lot of chaotic preparation and repeated readings of the recipe, she now watches as the fresh fish in the pan begins to sizzle.  
_  
__It really isn't that difficult_ , she thinks with a warm glimmer of proud in her chest.  
  
The smell of frying fish fills the kitchen slowly and she lets her thoughts wander.  
The prospect of the team's surprised, happy faces causes a pleasant, excited tickle in her stomach.  
Maybe they will even compliment her. They sure will, right?  
  
"Daisy?"  
  
A tentative voice pulls her out of her thoughts.  
  
Daisy turns around in surprise.  
  
Fitz stands behind her in the door, his whole body tense.  
His eyes are wide open and he wrinkles his nose.  
He is ... strangely pale. Even paler than usual.  
All color seems to have left his face.  
  
"Oh no ..." he mumbles, taking a step backwards. "No no no …"  
  
Daisy frowns. Concern stirs in her.  
Just as she opens her mouth to ask what's going on, Fitz suddenly starts gagging. He presses both hands over his mouth and nose, his eyes widening in horror.   
Finally he stumbles out of the room. The door slams shut behind him and Daisy stares after him with her mouth open.  
  
What the hell?  
  
After a moment's hesitation she quickly goes after him, remembering just in time to push the pan with the fish from the hot hearth area.  
  
Fitz is in the bathroom and the door is locked.  
Daisy stops in front of it and bites her lip nervously. "Fitz?" She asks cautiously.  
  
There's no answer.

Instead, unmistakable gagging sounds come from inside.  Daisy grimaces.  
Is Fitz ill?   
Oh God, what if somebody somehow managed to infect the whole base with a flu virus?  
She can't get sick now.  
Not now, when she has something like a vacation for the first time in ages!  She will definitely not spend all of her free time in bed ...  
  
"Fitz?" She asks again, knocking on the door.  "What's going on?"  
  
She hears the toilet flush going several times.  
Then the door suddenly opens and Daisy quickly steps back.  
Fitz staggers past her, his hands still in front of his face.  He murmers something unintelligible and disappears into his room.  
  
Daisy sighs and follows him.  "Fitz?  Fitz what's going on?  Are not you feeling well, is it ... "  
  
She sees him dropping on his bed, pulling the blanket over himself.  
He breathes heavily through his mouth and groans from time to time.  
  
She hesitantly stops in front of his bed and gently touches his shoulder under the blanket.  
"Fitz ... is there anything I can do?  I could make you tea ... "  
  
Suddenly Fitz's face appears, a reflection of silent agony. "Close the door!" He calls.  
  
Daisy obeys, frowning.  
  
Fitz sniffs the air and moans, pulling at his hair.  
"Bloody Hell, it's too late, now it's everywhere.  Damn it ..."  
  
"What is everywhere, Fitz?" Daisy asks increasingly desperate.  She doesn't understand ...  
  
"The smell!" Fitz barks.  
  
"Oh." She still doesn't understand. And she actually doesn't smell anything bad or penetrating.  
  
Her confusion must be clearly written on her face, because Fitz sighs and explains, "I can't smell fried fish, okay?  I am getting sick of it immediately. It's called hypersensitivity.  I'm sorry.  Please ... just go and leave me alone.  I am fine.  I have a scented sachet of Jemma here and hopefully it will help, until ... until the smell is gone."

Daisy raises an eyebrow in uncertain surprise.  
"You can't smell fried fish," she repeats.  
  
Fitz blinks up at her. Suddenly something like worry, mixed with resignation, fills his eyes.  "Yes," he confirms and swallows.  
  
Daisy nods slowly.  
Then she remembers that he mentioned not long ago that he's autistic and also remembers that he said that he perceives some things differently from them, more intense ... And the penny drops.  
Oh.  Oh no.  
She presses her hand over her mouth and her eyes widen.  
Suddenly she feels terribly guilty.  
"Oh my ... I'm sorry, Fitz.  For real. I …"  
  
Fitz sighs.  "Daisy," he says weakly.  "Please go and close the door. Please."  
He disappears back under the blanket with the scented sachet pressed to his nose, and Daisy leaves after a last concerned look at him.  
She sighs and slowly walks back to the kitchen, feeling like a bad friend.  
  
Damn it …  
  
*  
  
The team is pleasantly surprised by Daisy's dinner.  
There are indeed some compliments.  
Even from May, which creates a pleasant warm feeling in Daisy's heart.  
  
There is nothing left of her fish when they finish.  
  
Fitz doesn't show up.  
He lets Jemma tell them that he isn't hungry and is working on an urgent problem.  
  
Whenever Daisy glances at his empty chair, she feels a stab of guilt.  
  
Jemma looks at her as if she knows.

*

"Was Fitz actually here when you were cooking?" Jemma asks, almost casually, as she helps Daisy wash the dishes.  "He doesn't react well to the smell of fried fish."

"Of course _you_ knew that," Daisy says sadly and swallows.  "Well.  He was here.  And he vomited.  And then went right into the room and disappeared under his blanket." She sighs.  "I just feel awful now. And guilty."

"Oh Daisy", Jemma puts a hand on her shoulder.  "You didn't know. Don't feel guilty. How about you go and talk to him about it? It might help you both. He still ... has some issues talking about his hypersensitivity and other aspects of his autism openly. I think he will be glad when you talk to him about it."

Daisy thinks about it.  Finally, she nods, feeling slightly nervous.  "Okay.  You're right.  I will talk to him later."

*

She finds Fitz in his room, sitting on the bed, holding a controller in both hands, staring spellbound at the screen in front of him.

_So much for the urgent problem_ , Daisy thinks slightly amused, despite her concern, and clears her throat.

Fitz flinches slightly and looks at her from the side.  "Daisy," he says.  It sounds questioning.  He stops his game.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" She asks, biting her lip.

Fitz looks at her for a moment.  He puts the controller away and nods.  
"Sure."

Daisy takes a deep breath.  
"Um, that thing ... the thing with the fish.  I'm really sorry.  I didn't want to cause you any discomfort ... And I understand when you're mad at me, you just have to know that I'm really really sorry. It won't happen again."

Fitz frowns.  He looks surprised.  Finally, he gently shakes his head.  
"Daisy.  I'm not mad at you.  Why should I.  You didn't know and it never came up in our conversations, so don't worry about it.  I'm really not angry with you. Not at all."

Daisy nods in relief.  "Okay."  
She feels much better now.

There's a moment of silence between them. It doesn't feel uncomfortable.  
She's just wondering if she should leave now, when Fitz suddenly sighs.  
  
"You didn't laugh," he says softly.

"What?" Daisy asks perplexed.

"You didn't laugh," he repeats.  "Thank you," he adds without looking at her.  


She is shocked.  
"Why ... I would never ... Why should I laugh?"

Fitz snorts.  It sounds bitter.  
"Well.  It's not normal, is it?  It's not normal to react to certain smells like I do."

"Fitz," Daisy says carefully.  "Just because you react differently to some things than other people do, that's no reason to make fun of you."

"Oh well.  My father laughed about it when he was drunk.  When he was sober, he got angry about it and called me a weird freak.  He held fish in my face and yelled at me to get used to it." He falls silent and seems startled for a moment.  A slight blush appears on his cheeks.  "I'm sorry.  I don't know why I told you that.  Feel free to forget it."

Daisy shakes her head.  "Fitz ...," she says softly.  
Pain stirs in her.  His words touch something deep inside her.  
He remembers how Jemma said earlier, that he has issues talking about this, and she thinks now she knows why.  


After a moment's hesitation, she sinks down on the bed next to Fitz, taking care not to touch him.

Fitz throws her a surprised look from the side.

Daisy bites her lower lip and finally says softly, "You know ... being different is not a bad thing.  It makes us special. _You_ are special, Fitz."  


"Well, sometimes it _feels_ bad," Fitz says quietly after a moment of thinking about her words.  She knows exactly what he means by that.

"Your father is an idiot, when he told you you're weird.  The women in the orphanage were idiots, when they told me that I'm an annoying, attention seeking, hyperactive troublemaker. Screw them," Daisy says scowling.  "We are fantastic. We are perfect the way we are.  Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Fitz looks at her thoughtfully.  He smiles slightly.  "Thanks Daisy."

Daisy nods.  She thinks and then asks, "Is fried fish the only smell that triggers this reaction on you?"

Fitz shakes his head.  "No.  There are a few other smells. Bear's garlic, for example.  Once my mother put that on her bread and I had to vomit. But that smell is rare.  Fish, however, is everywhere.  Especially in Scotland.  And fish is really bad.  Tuna is the worst." He shudders involuntarily.

Daisy nods thoughtfully.  
"I don't like Bear's garlic too," she says. "It really smells horrible."  
Her face brightens when she suddenly comes up with an idea.  
"You know ... after I accidentally destroyed dinner time for you today ... I can cook for you, tomorrow?  Tell me what you like the most. What smells good for you.  Whatever it is, I will do it!"

Fitz looks at her in surprise.  A careful smile spreads on his face.  "You really would do that? For me?"

"Of course."

He taps a finger against his chin thoughtfully for a while.  Then he shyly says, "There's this Scottish dish ... my mother made it a lot and I haven't eaten it in ages. It's called _Cook a leekie._ "  
  
Daisy frowns.  "I have no idea what that is, but I'll find out."

Fitz grins. "I can help you. Then you don't have to do all the work. I'm actually not bad at cooking. At least Jemma says so."

Daisy nods in agreement, jumping up, excitement already stirring in her.  
"Okay.  See you tomorrow evening then.  Put on something decent", she grins and winks at him.

He snorts and laughs.  
"Thanks, Daisy.  Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Fitz."

She leaves his room and goes to her own, with a firm plan to cook a damn good meal for him. Or rather with him. Sure it will be fun.  
This _leekie_ thing can't be that difficult, can it?  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little story was inspired by my own experiences.  
> I can't smell certain things. The smell of fried fish makes me automatically gagging and sometimes also vomiting. I can't control that reaction.  
> It's part of my heightened sensitivity, I have that in regard to certain smells, sounds and tastes.  
> For my family it was "funny".  
> It isn't funny at all.  
> Fortunately my fiance thinks that too.  
> He loves fish. Like, really loves it.  
> But he only makes it when I'm not at home.  
> And he takes care that I don't smell it in any way.  
> .  
> If you have a question about this topic, ask right away!  
> I think it's important for people to know that autism comes in a lot of different forms and that hypersensitivity can be a part of it. By the way, there are also a lot of "good" smells for me (that's why I let Fitz have the scented sachet, they are really helpful to deal with "bad" smells). Good smells for me for example are rain, vanilla (but only mild) and honey :)


	25. Sympathy (Bus Kids / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitzsimmons invite Skye to a movie night. It gets emotional. They talk about family ... (Bus Kids / Season One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place somewhere in season 1, that's why Daisy is called Skye here!

Skye carefully smiles at herself in the mirror, while brushing her hair.

She feels excited and slightly scared at the same time. The feeling causes a fluttering sensation in her stomach, that isn’t unpleasant, but gives her goose bumps.

Fitzsimmons invited her to a movie night with lots of self-made popcorn, cola and ice cream.

Skye has never been to such a social event. She spent hours with thinking about what she should wear and how she’s supposed to act. But there’s also a long list in her head with things that could go wrong. Too many what ifs ... What if she does something wrong? What if she laughs too much or says something stupid or embarrassing? What if they won’t like her? If they decide that she’s just annoying or arrogant or something?

Skye swallows. She puts the hairbrush aside, sighing, staring herself in the eye.

She wants this to work. She really does. Because she likes Fitzsimmons and wants them to like her too.

And also somewhere inside her she’s about to realize, that she found, what she was searching all the time, in an unexpected place. For the first time in her life she feels truly welcome and accepted, like she is. Feels wanted.

Not one of the many families she’s been in had given her that feeling. She involuntarily remembers one, that was particularly bad.

They were rich. Like, ridiculously rich.

They owned a villa by the beach, multiple expensive cars and horses.

Skye remembers herself staring open-mouthed at all the luxury around her. Her room was so big, that she felt almost uncomfortable. It was full with scary, expensive dolls. She didn't dare to touch anything there.  
  
In the way too big house she got lost while searching for the dining room.  
  
First, Skye wasn’t too sad about her new conditions. She liked the horses. And the sight of the ocean in front of her window.

But while the family seemed to have everything, something was still missing …

There was no warmth. No love.  

The smiles were cold. The words too.

They didn’t really talk much to her. Just the most necessary. She was told to behave and was expected to be inconspicuous.

At some point, she felt like one of the expensive dolls in her room.  
  
And she didn’t get it back then, but now she does. They didn’t adopt a kid because they missed something in their family. No. They adopted a kid, because it was what rich people in their later 40s were supposed to do. It was just protocol.

And her life there felt exactly like this. Protocol.

She ran away again after she accidentally broke an antic vase and received a harsh slap in the face for it.

Skye is ripped from her thoughts by a careful knock at the door of her bunk. She startles slightly, giving her face in the mirror a last hasty look-over.

When she opens the door, Simmons stands in front of her, a bright smile on her face. “Hey!”

Skye smiles back, nervously biting her lip. “Hey Simmons.”

“Are you ready? Because we are ready,” Simmons says, cheerfully. “So if you want to come …”

“Sure,” Skye says, trying to sound more certain about this whole thing than she actually is.

“Great.” Simmons leads the way.

When she opens the door to the small lounge, she says, “Make yourself comfortable. I have to get the popcorn.”

“Okay.” Skye enters the room hesitantly, seeing Fitz sitting on the couch.

He absently looks at her, mumbling, “Hey Skye.” Then his gaze turns back to the tv, where the end credits of an animal documentary are running.

“Hello Fitz,” Skye says. She nervously eyes the possible seats in the room. She goes for the single armchair opposite the couch. She sinks into the soft cushions, clearing her throat.

Simmons walks in, with a big bowl of popcorn which she puts on the table between couch and armchair. “Move,” she says, giving Fitz’s shoulder a friendly push. He obeys. Simmons throws herself on the couch beside him, starting the movie.

It’s somewhat silly. They giggle a lot and the longer the evening lasts, the more Skye forgets her insecure thoughts. Being with Fitzsimmons is fun and it doesn’t feel like they are just colleagues. It feels more like … yeah, like a family.

Suddenly, she’s crying. She doesn’t want to, but it just happens. She sobs and Fitzsimmons look at her in alarm.

“Skye!”, Simmons calls out frightened. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m … it’s just that … I feel so comfortable here,” Skye sniffles. She rolls her eyes, sighing. “Sorry that’s … I know it sounds stupid.”

“No it doesn’t,” Simmons says, handing her a tissue from somewhere. “It really doesn’t.”

Skye gratefully takes the tissue, noisily blowing her nose.

Fitz and Simmons are still looking at her. Skye feels like she ruined everything, and that thought makes more tears run over her face.

“Do you want to talk?”, Simmons asks carefully.

Skye swallows. Yes. Yes she wants to talk. But she also doesn’t want to lose what she may have won this evening. What she _hopes_ to have won. Too much talking has never paid off in the past.

But Simmons smiles at her warmly, and Fitz looks sympathetic, not annoyed. And so she says quietly, “I … I just have this certain feeling. I have it for days now, actually. The feeling of being, um, _there_. It’s like I was searching for something for a long time. But I never really knew what it is I’m searching. But now … now I feel that I’m where I’m supposed to be. Where I can find what was missing all that time. Do you understand?”, she asks hesitantly. _Too much incoherent rambling_ , she tells herself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid …_

But Simmons says, “Yes. I think I understand. You were searching for a place you belong to. A … a family.”

Skye clears her throat. “Yes,” she breathes. “I tried to tell me that I don’t need that. That I don’t need a family. But somehow … I always longed for it anyway. Couldn’t help it.”

Simmons nods. “Family is important,” she says softly. “A family is there when we need it. When we are sad, when we need comfort or support. It’s just natural to want to have this.”

Skye swallows. “Yeah. Well, I was in a lot of families. It never really worked. At some point I got the impression, that something … something about me is wrong. That there’s something about me that made them dislike me."

“Well, _we_ like you,” Fitz says without looking at her.

“We do,” Simmons emphasizes, laying a hand on Skye’s shoulder.

Skye smiles tearfully. She feels gratefulness and a pleasant warmth towards them. But the certain bitterness in her is not going away yet. She sighs. “And I try not to do that … but often I still think it’s my fault that they didn’t want me,” she says sadly. “And I wish I knew what to do differently, what to do to make them love me …”

“It’s not,” Fitz says suddenly and the girls look at him surprised. Fitz clears his throat and looks at Skye intensely. “I mean, it’s not your fault. Not at all. They should have treated you better. You weren’t and aren’t responsible for their actions. If they didn’t take you as you are, didn’t accept you, then they didn’t deserve you.”

Skye swallows. “Thank you,” she breathes, Fitz words warming her heart.

Fitz nods curtly. “We shouldn’t blame ourselves for the mistakes of others,” he mumbles, taking a handful of popcorn. “It’s just painful and doesn’t change anything. You can’t change the past. You  can just go on and accept, that some people in your life were too blind or too ignorant to see your value.” He stops talking, throwing the popcorn in his mouth.

There’s a moment of thoughtful silence in the room.

Skye asks herself for a moment why he said “we”, but she doesn’t ask. She feels like this is something for another day, for another time.

Finally she says, “It’s great to have you as family. I couldn’t imagine a better one.”

Simmons beams at her, hugging Skye tightly. “I’m glad you’re here,” she breathes.

Fitz looks at them, smiling faintly.

They sit there in comfortable silence, feeling that their connection was extended by something important.

“Are you two even tired?”, Jemma asks after a moment. “Because I’m not. Not at all.” Suddenly, her eyes sparkle in happy mischief. “We could play Truth or Dare,” she suggests.

“Not again, Simmons,” Fitz groans.

Skye swallows slightly alarmed.

But Jemma laughs and says, “Don’t worry. We only ask and do stuff that isn’t embarrassing.”

“Well, maybe for you those things aren’t embarrassing,” Fitz mumbles.

“Oh don’t be such a spoilsport!”, Jemma says, pinching his side, chuckling when Fitz gasps startled, glaring at her.

Skye laughs.

She feels warm and comfortable. And she realizes, she really can finally stop searching. She arrived.


	26. Affection (FitzSimmons Post s5 Fluff / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a calm Sunday morning and Jemma doesn't want to get up. (Fitzsimmons / Post s5 Fluff)

Jemma doesn’t want to get up. She woke up before her alarm today. She quickly turns it off, so it won't wake Fitz. Now she’s looking out of the window, blinking sleepily into the dim light, thinking that it’s the perfect day for staying in bed.

It’s a Sunday morning in early autumn. The leaves on the big oak in front of their cottage are golden. From time to time, a slight, cold breeze makes them flutter, some tumbling down to the ground in a slow dance. The sky is grey, the clouds heavy and the sun just a faint white shimmer behind them.

Jemma yawns. She looks at Fitz, who’s snoring slightly, his face turned to her. She smiles at the sight, which makes her feel light and warm inside. She’s at home.

Jemma sighs.

The moment is perfect. She _really_ doesn’t want to get up. But she has to pee.

What a very normal problem on an astonishingly normal day.

After some hesitance, she gets out of bed with a sigh, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible. She shivers in the coldness of the room, toddling to the bathroom on bare feet. She can't stop yawning while going to the toilet, and the sleepiness makes her feel slightly dizzy. When she washes her face, she looks in the mirror, smiling faintly at her reflection. Tired eyes and pasty skin. But the smile is quite happy and confident. Good.

When she’s back in the bedroom a moment later, she quickly slips back under the duvets, sighing in satisfaction, when she finds them still warm. She turns to face Fitz, who’s still fast asleep.

She looks at his peaceful face, feeling the affection for him burning warm and strong in her heart.

Involuntarily, she stretches to press a gentle kiss on Fitz’s cheek.

Then, she lays back into the pillows again, staring out of the window. She feels a rush of joy, when she remembers that they are finally, where her dreams always wanted them to be.

In a small, cozy cottage in Perthshire.

It still feels like one of her dreams sometimes. But it’s real. This time, it’s definitely real. And it feels like life is taking a break together with them. There are no dangers. No maniacs or strange, life-threatening objects. It’s just them.

And it’s perfect.

Sure, in the beginning, it wasn’t easy. For neither of them. Too much happened. And it took its toll on them. Panic attacks, nightmares, depression, hallucinations, desperation. They faced those things together and together they are still fighting them. One of the first things Jemma did in Perthshire, was to find a therapist for them. She doesn’t regret the step, although sometimes, she feels incredibly drawn out and numb after her sessions, and Fitz often has violent rage fits after his own, after which Jemma finds him on the floor, sobbing helplessly. Before they could start healing, they began with breaking apart all over again. But it was necessary. And now, they concentrate on the part, where they set their fragile souls back together again.

Time passed, and wounds healed.

But some nights are still difficult for Fitz.

In some nights, Jemma wakes up, seeing Fitz standing at the window. He just stands there, his arms crossed, his shoulders tense. Jemma never addresses him. She already knows what’s going on and what she has to do. She quietly stands up and goes to Fitz. Slowly, she wraps her arms around him from behind and just holds him. Fitz doesn’t say something. But he closes his eyes and sighs. Time goes by and they stand there in front of the window. Eventually, Fitz relaxes and turns his head to look at her, his eyes full of grateful love. And then Jemma asks “Tea?” like she always does. And Fitz answers quietly, “Yes”, like he always does. They go to the living room, drink tea and talk. Fitz tells Jemma which of his demons came out to haunt him this time, and Jemma listens.

For Jemma, some nights are still difficult too.

Her nightmares became more rarely over the time, but she still has them. And they are terrifying. She’s back in the Zephyr, searching for Fitz in space. She’s sitting in her bunk, lonely and empty. No one ever comes to help her in those dreams. No one. It’s a lie, because in reality, Daisy, Mack and Yo-Yo, they all were there for her after Fitz’s death. But her nightmares don’t care about reality. They are like demons, which live on her fear and pain. And the worst thing about the dreams is, that she never finds Fitz. She just floats around in wide, dark space, crying and screaming for Fitz. She never finds him. She stays lonely and empty and split in two …

She wakes up, screaming, panicking all over again, because there’s darkness around her and she can’t see … can’t see Fitz, he’s gone, he’s gone forever – but then he whispers her voice in the void, switching on the light on the night table, wrapping his arms around her and pull her close. “I’m here, Jemma,” he says again and again. Jemma listens to his voice and heartbeat, her hands scrambling over his back, frantically, trying to understand that he’s there, that he’s not gone, that this is real. When the waves of panic finally subside, the tears come. She weeps and soaks Fitz’s shirt. He holds her the whole time, whispering soothing words. Falling back asleep is almost impossible. And so they stand up, cuddling on the couch, drinking hot chocolate or tea, talking until the sun rises.

Some nights are still difficult for them, but together they are stronger than the demons.

Jemma sighs. Suddenly, she has the urge to be as near to Fitz as possible. She snuggles closer to him, pressing her face against his chest, laying an arm around him. He hums in his sleep.

Jemma knows, that she won’t fall back asleep. But it's alright. She just enjoys being near to Fitz, although she has to breathe through her mouth to avoid his morning breath, which isn’t quite as pleasant as his warmth. She lets her thoughts wander lazily, from her girls night with Daisy last week to Mack’s birthday, which is still to come, back to Fitz’s plan to finally install a lab in the cottage.

After a while, Fitz wakes up, blinking at her, his eyes clouded by a sleepy haze, mumbling something about beautiful and warm, before he dozes off again, his mouth slowly falling open, until he continues snoring softly.  

Jemma smiles affectionately. She starts to run a hand through his hair, which is longer again. He probably will call for a haircut soon, although Jemma loves his curls.  

Outside, it starts raining. Jemma closes her eyes again, listening to the steady beat of the raindrops against the windows.  
She stretches her legs, sighing contently.

She feels safe. So very safe.

*

Later, when Fitz manages to wake up completely, goes to the bathroom without saying anything, his eyes slightly glassy. When he comes back, his face is washed, but his eyes are still sleepy and his walk is a bit unsure.

He quickly slips back under the duvets, opening his arms for her. She snuggles close to him again. Fitz smiles into her hair. Like on a silent command, they start holding hands.

“What do you want to do today?” He mumbles.  

Jemma shakes her head. “Nothing. I just want to lay here. With you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. If that’s what you want, I want it too,” Fitz says, squeezing her hand.

Jemma smiles. It’s nice to know, that they really _can_ stay in bed all day. Today there’s no therapist appointment, no need to go shopping, and no one from the team announced to visit them today. Well, she thinks with a hint of amusement, Deke never announces his visits, he just knocks on the door whenever he feels like seeing them, but he tends to sleep until late afternoon, especially on Sundays. He has his own small flat in the nearby village now, and she can imagine that by now, it must look like a candy shop.  

Jemma and Fitz just lay there for a while, holding hands and listening to each other’s breath.

Jemma starts to think, Fitz could have fallen back asleep, but then he says quietly, “Jemma. Are you happy?”

She hums, opening her eyes to look at him. His face is serious, he’s biting his lip and his eyes, which are a darker shade of blue in the dim light than usual, stares into hers with an attentive intensity.

She smiles at him. “Yes. Yes, I’m happy, Fitz. I couldn’t be happier right now.”

He carefully returns her smile. “Good. Because … it’s important for me. You deserve all the happiness in the world, Jemma.”

“Oh Fitz.” She lays her free hand on his cheek, stroking it slightly. “Are you happy, too?” She asks him.

He closes his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Yes,” he breathes. “This is … this life with you, here, it’s all I need. And it’s more than I ever expected to have. More than I probably deserve.”

“Fitz no,” she says, shaking her head. “You _do_ deserve this. We both do. Please don’t be too hard on yourself, love.”

“I try,” he whispers. “But sometimes it’s still so hard. It’s hard to fight back all those thoughts … the thoughts about all the mistakes of the past. Both about the mistakes I remember and those I don’t. And often, when I look in the mirror, I still feel like I’m not … not enough. I try. But trying isn’t enough sometimes …”

“I’m here to remind you,” Jemma tells him. “I’m here to remind you that everything that happens now, happens because we are inseparable, and we deserve to be happy with each other.”

“Inseparable,” Fitz breathes.

“Yes. Inseparable,” Jemma repeats, smiling at him.

“I love you, Jemma,” he whispers, covering her face with featherlight kisses, until she laughs.

“I love you too, Fitz,” she says, closing her eyes, smiling contently.   

After a while, she falls asleep again, and it’s okay. They have all the time in the world now.  


	27. Fine (?) (May & Fitz / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz has a problem. He thinks he can't tell anyone. But when May asks him if he's fine, he decides to confide to her. (May & Fitz, somewhere in season 5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sometime in season 5 I suppose, but it's not canon compliant.  
> I wanted Fitz to get the chance to talk to someone about his mental issues. I think it would have changed a lot.  
> Since I think May would understand and help Fitz a lot, and they get way to little time on screen together, I wrote this about them.  
> I hope you like it a bit!

Fitz looks at the wires in front of him. He sighs and restlessly rubs the back of his head. He spent the last few hours with checking the Zephyr over. The problem is that there is none. There’s no problem for him to solve. No danger. No threats. No distraction. Nothing.

There’s just him. And his new worst enemy: His mind.

By now, he regrets the decision to stay on the Zephyr, which is resting on a wide meadow in the middle of nowhere.

Jemma’s gone with Daisy and Mack, to get some much-needed food, toilet paper and other supplies.

Coulson is in his bunk.

He doesn’t know where May is. Maybe in the gym.

It’s too silent.

Fitz involuntarily yawns. His eyes are heavy. He wipes his face and sighs. He didn’t sleep a lot last night. Actually, he didn’t sleep well for days now.

How could he sleep peacefully when ...

“Fitz.”

He flinches at the voice, turning around.

May is standing behind him, a bottle of water in one hand and a towel in the other. Apparently she really has been in the gym. “You’re alright?” She asks him.

Fitz nods. “Yeah. Just … I’m just checking everything over.” He yawns again. His eyes are burning, he notices. And there’s a distant throbbing in his head.

May looks him over. She frowns. “You should get some rest,” she tells him. “You look exhausted.”

Fitz shakes his head. “No. I’m fine, really. I have to make sure, there’s no problem with the, the, um, lightning systems,” he mumbles, suppressing another yawn.

He doesn’t tell her, that he also doesn’t want to be alone in the dark with his thoughts – and the voices.

May sighs. She watches him for a while, how he uselessly fumbles with the wires.

After a while, Fitz gets involuntarily annoyed. Her presence, her even breaths, are unnerving him. He turns around to her, opening his mouth to tell her it’s all fine and she _really_ doesn’t have to worry, but then he freezes. Because Ward is standing behind her. He has a gun in his hand and there’s a crooked grin on his face.

Fitz blinks.

_Oh._ _That’s a new one._

_Fitz_ , the hallucination says. _I really didn’t think you’d have it in you. But look at you now. There’s a killer hidden in you. And if you would eliminate your weaknesses, you’d be even able to be as strong as him. Strong like_ me.

Fitz groans. He takes a step backward, his wide open eyes focused on the hallucination. _He isn’t real._ _He isn’t there._ _It’s just a trick your mind is playing you …_

May frowns. She waves her hand in front of his face. “Fitz? Are you still with me?”

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply. When he opens them again, Ward is gone. “Yeah,” he mumbles, wiping his face. “I’m fine. Really.”

May doesn’t look convinced. But she nods curtly. “If you want to talk, I’m in the cockpit,” she tells him.

Then she turns around and leaves.

Fitz looks after her, feeling desperate enough to really consider talking to her. He sits down on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest, resting his head on them. He closes his eyes.

_This is a mess ..._

*

Debates with himself are usually ending with one of his hallucinations convincing him, that it would be a bad idea, to bother anyone with his problems, but this time, the desperation seems to be stronger than any of his demons.

When he finally decides to try to talk to May, he feels a bit guilty, because, somehow he feels it should be Jemma who knows first. But … he can’t do this to her. He considered it a few times, laying beside her, watching her sleeping peacefully. He considered it. But he never could tell her. Maybe because he’s scared of her reaction. Maybe, because he’s scared she will see him in a different light, that throws a shadow on their relationship. Maybe because he fears he will destroy their – her? – happiness.

 _Are we happy?_ _Really?_

This time it’s himself who’s asking his. And he tells himself to shut up.

He stands up, swaying slightly, as the exhaustion makes him dizzy.

May said she’s in the cockpit.

He goes there slowly, feeling more uncertain with every laborious step.

*

May sits in front of the windowpane, staring outside with a blank face. Her fingers are playing with a strand of her hair. She seems thoughtful.

Fitz hesitates.

 _Maybe this is a bad idea_ , he thinks once again.

He takes a step backward again, but in this moment, May notices him. She turns her head to him. “Fitz,” she says. Just this.

Fitz bites his lip. _Tell her._ _No._ _Don’t._

The conflict inside him makes it hard for him to breathe.

May waits patiently, her eyes never leaving his.

“I … I have a problem,” Fitz finally says carefully.

May doesn’t say anything. She just looks at him expectantly.

Fitz swallows. He feels the perspiration trickling down his neck.

 _Do you really want to tell her?_ The Doctor asks him. _Do you really want to see the pity in her eyes? Because she will pity you. They all will. Poor, broken Fitz, they will say. Useless. They won’t need you anymore. If you aren’t able to help, to build the things they need, they are going to get rid of you. There are enough engineers, who aren’t damaged like you …_

Fitz closes his eyes. He clenches his hands into tight fists. No. He wouldn’t be able to stand it. Not pity. Not in the eyes of the last few people he really, truly trusts. The people he likes to call family in his mind. When he opens his eyes again, May is looking at him, frowning. There’s concern in her eyes now.

“Fitz,” she says more gently than usually, nodding to the seat beside her. “Sit down.”

Fitz hesitates. But his legs are so weak he thinks he can’t stand much longer. He doesn't want to collapse in front of May. So he stumbles to the passengers seat, sinking into it with a sigh.

May clears her throat. “There’s something you want to tell me?”

Fitz looks into her eyes. _It’s May_ , he thinks desperately. _After everything we’ve been through, she wouldn’t think I’m useless, right? I can trust her, can’t I?_

His heart says yes, but the voice in his head screams no.

Finally, his heart wins.

He takes a deep breath. “I … I'm hearing voices,” he bursts out.

There. Now she knows. He exhales shakily.

May just looks at him, still expectantly.  As if she senses that there’s more.

Fitz looks down at his hands. His bad one is trembling slightly again. He grabs it with his other hand. “And … and sometimes I see people, who are, um, not _there_. Like back then, when I was, um, injured. Mostly I see … the person I was in The Framework now. The Doctor. Or my Dad. Or now also Ward. Or … or …”

He stops. It’s too much. Reality hurts more than imagination, sometimes.

“Did you tell Jemma?” May asks after a moment.

Fitz shakes his head.

“For how long do you have those hallucinations now, Fitz?”

“Um. Since I’m out of the Framework.”

He hears May inhaling sharply. He looks up and sees, that her eyes aren’t full of pity, but of sympathy and that’s a huge difference.

“You should have said something sooner,” she tells him softly.

He lowers his head. “Didn’t want to be a burden.”

“Fitz. You will never be a burden to anyone here. We’re there for each other. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

She pauses. Suddenly, she seems to hesitate. When she talks again, her voice sounds different. A bit bitter. And sad.

“Sometimes, I hear voices too,” she says.

Fitz’s eyes widen in surprise.

May’s mouth is a thin line now. She looks away, back to the darkness in front of her. “They are the voices of people, I couldn’t save,” she explains. “The people who died in front of my eyes. Like the little girl in Bahrain. She died in my arms and sometimes, when I close my eyes, she looks at me with sad, accusing eyes.”

She shudders. Fitz is both confused and amazed, that she opens herself to him like this. “How do you fight them off?” He asks carefully.

May sighs. “When it started, I was quite helpless. I tried therapy. It helped. At least most of the times. I tried to tell myself, that I did my best. That I tried. And that you can’t save everyone. It’s impossible.”

Fitz nods. “I don’t know what I should tell myself,” he says quietly. Then he sighs, looking at his hands again. “I need help, right?” He asks softly.

“Yes,” May says after a moment. “And that’s okay. What’s also impossible, is to get through those things alone. You need someone, who can get you back from this dark, painful place inside your head. A light in the shadows, you understand? You have to allow yourself, to get the help you need. Needing and getting help doesn’t make you weak. It can only help to make you stronger than this trauma.”

Fitz looks at her. “You think I should attend therapy sessions?” He asks, feeling a bit scared at the thought.

May nods. “There’s medication for such things as hallucinations. And it helps to talk to someone, who isn’t involved. Who is a neutral party, you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“I can help you to find someone,” May tells him. “And I can go with you the first time. If you’ll feel better, if I do.”

Fitz’s heart fills with warm gratitude for her. “Thank you,” he breathes.

May gives him a small smile. “And talk to Jemma,” she says. “She’s that light in the shadows for you, isn’t she?”

Fitz smiles. “She is.”

He looks at May, feeling relived and comforted. Good feelings. They bring some hope back. “Thank you,” he says again.

May just nods.

There’s a moment of silence.

Somewhere outside, a fox screams. The night is cold and foggy.

Fitz sinks deeper into his seat sometime. His eyes flutter shut, but he tries to hold them open.

“Get some sleep. I’ll stay. I have to catch up with my meditation anyway,” May tells him.

He barely hears her. “Okay,” he breathes, finally allowing himself to close his eyes.

The exhaustion overwhelms him. Sleep pulls him into a less threatening kind of darkness. He allows it. There’s nothing to fear with May beside him.

When May pulls a blanket over him, he’s already asleep.

There are no dreams. Just the first peaceful sleep in days.


	28. Wrecked (Daisy & Fitz Post s5 / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Fitz talk to each other for the first times in weeks, when they can't sleep because of their nightmares. They aren't sure if they can ever be okay again. A little while later Fitz saves Daisy's life ... (Post Season 5, Daisy & Fitz)

Fitz awakes with a whimper. He stares unseeing into the void, breathing shallowly. Cold sweat on his forehead. A plea still on his lips. Resounding in his head … He shudders.

Another nightmare. Blood on his hands. High-pitched screams and eyes full of horror ..

Fitz groans, pressing a trembling hand against his forehead. It wasn't real, he tries to calm himself. Nothing of it was real ...

Jemma beside him makes a small sound. She’s laying on her back, her mouth slightly open, her hazel hair surrounding her peaceful, beautiful face like a halo.

Fitz looks at her and feels helpless. _I want you to be happy_ , he thinks. _But how is that possible, if you constantly have to deal with a broken man …_

Not for the first time, he has that dark thought, that lurks in his mind since Jemma’s woken him up. _Maybe it would have been better for everyone, if I stayed frozen in space …_

Fitz closes his eyes, trying to breathe slower. He feels like he’s suffocating in this small room, in this stuffy air. He has to get out of here …

After some hesitance Fitz stands up slowly, trying to not wake Jemma, and leaves their bunk. The hallways of the Zephyr are empty. The silence of the night is deafening. He can’t stand to be here a second more, so he leaves the ship.  

It’s cold outside.

Fitz shivers slightly, blinking as his eyes adjust to the darkness.

The Zephyr is resting on a wide meadow, under a starry sky. Just a few steps away there’s a lake, framed by fir trees and oaks. The image could be beautiful, if Fitz wasn’t too distracted by the gloomy thoughts in his head and the heavy sadness in his heart.

He breathes in the fresh air relieved, and closes his eyes for a moment. It’s so calm here. The only sounds are the even chirping of the crickets and a soft rustling when the wind blows through the leaves.

Suddenly, there’s another sound. Something light falling into deep water.

Fitz opens his eyes, seeing a figure standing in front of the nearby lake. It’s Daisy.

Fitz frowns. What is she doing here all alone in the middle of the night?

Maybe, he answers himself, she’s doing the exact same thing as you. Trying to avoid sleep because what lurks in our dreams is much worse than being tired.

Water splashes again.

Fitz realizes, that Daisy is throwing pebbles into the lake. Slowly. Methodically.

He hesitates. Somehow he feels like he should go to her. But … she won’t be happy to see him. She’s still avoiding him. Didn’t talk to him since he has waken up. And it’s alright. It’s her decision. He would do the same, he thinks, shuddering when he remembers what he only knows as stories but is Daisy’s reality. _You cut into her … You hurt her. You …_ Fitz starts to feel sick.  
  
He almost considers going back to his and Jemma’s bunk, when Daisy suddenly talks, her voice making Fitz flinch.

“Are you going to stand there forever?”

Fitz swallows.

She’s still looking at the water in front of her, but she stopped throwing pebbles into it.

_She talked to me. That’s something, right?_

After another moment of hesitation, he slowly walks towards her, stopping beside her.

Daisy turns her head to look at him. “Nightmares?” She asks curtly.  

„Yeah.“

She nods and mumbles, “Me too.” She throws another pebble. It lands in the dark water with a dull sound. She looks after it, then she sighs. “The fight with crazy Talbot. And … Coulson. Or the things that happened before that. It’s a mess. And I hate it. I hate to see it all in my dreams. Like an endless loop.” She snorts. “And you?” She asks almost aggressively.

Fitz swallows. He kicks a pebble with his shoe. It lands in the water with a quiet thud. “I feel like I don’t belong here,” he says quietly. “Like someone else lived my life and now I’m supposed to pick up the pieces that are left of it.”

Daisy hums. “I’m still angry,” she then states matter of factly.

Fitz nods. “I know.”

A moment passes in silence, only disturbed by the sounds of the pebbles falling into the water.

Finally, Daisy clears her throat. “Fitz,” she says. It sounds desperate. “Are we ever going to be something like … okay?”

Fitz shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Her eyes search his and she nods. Understanding is silent. She throws another pebble into the dark water, that looks like glossy oil in the darkness of the night.

*

The first mission is a mess.

It was supposed to be easy. Take out a few new fanatics, save some Inhumans. In and out.

But they had stronger weapons than expected.

Soon, everything is filled with fire and smoke. Daisy’s lungs are burning. She stumbles through an alley, coughing. She can’t see anyone of the team and she’s scared, because all the dark memories come back to haunt her.

 _I shouldn’t be here_ , she realizes, supporting herself against a wall, breathing heavily. _I can’t be here. I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to …_

She doesn’t see the man. He comes out of the smoky shadows behind her.

There’s only the barely audible sound of a sharp inhale, as the man raises his weapon to aim it at Daisy’s head, his eyes filled with cold hatred.  
  
Daisy freezes. 

She turns around quickly but she’s too slow, way too slow – she stares into the dark barrel of the gun in his hands, feeling like everything’s happening in slow motion. She has one second to feel sorry for being so careless. She should know better. _Is this how I die?_ She wonders _. Really?_

But no. It isn’t.

Someone, a blur of vague colours in the corner of Daisy's eye, crashes into the man violently, shoving him against the wall with an angry scream.

It’s Fitz.

Daisy exhales, finally able to move again. She watches in horror as Fitz and the man fall on the ground in an entangled mess of limbs, fighting for the gun. There’s some pained grunting and a sickening cracking sound and she wishes, she could do something, but she would risk to hurt Fitz too, and -

Suddenly, a single shot echoes unbearable loud through the alley.  

“Fitz!” Daisy calls out, terrified.

She sighs relived, when he groans, raising his head. “I’m fine,” he gasps, rolling away from the other man, dropping the gun. “I’m fine …” He clutches his chest, groaning in pain.

He looks up at Daisy, breathing hectically, then back at the man, who isn’t moving. A puddle of blood is slowly forming around him. Fitz blinks.

“You … I think you just saved my life,” Daisy says breathlessly.

Fitz doesn’t react to her words. He still stares at the man in front of him, with a blank expression in his eyes. “He’s dead,” he mumbles. “I killed him.” He slowly raises his hands, staring at the specks of blood on them. “No,” he breathes. “No …”

“Fitz?” Daisy asks, confused.

She watches, as he scrambles away from the body, until he’s leaning against a wall with his back. He draws his knees to his chest, his whole body tensing and trembling. His breath gets quicker and it almost seems as if he’s hyperventilating. “No …” He whispers again, clutching his head with both hands. His eyes are wide open, staring into the void in front of him. “Go away … we’re not … I am not there … not there … I’m not a killer. You are!”

Daisy swallows. She sees the pure fear in Fitz’s eyes and gets goose bumps. He’s having a panic attack, she realizes. Shit. What is she supposed to do now?

Instinctively, she crouches down in front of him. “Fitz,” she says as calmly as she can, trying to get his attention. “Fitz listen to me … you’re alright. You’re safe.”

Fitz whimpers.

The noise makes Daisy’s heart ache painfully.

She carefully reaches out a hand, touching his shoulder slightly. “I’m here,” she says desperately. “I’m real, okay? I’m here and this is real. Just try to concentrate on my voice.”

Finally, Fitz raises his head to look at her. He frowns. His eyes fill with a wild mix of fear, confusion and hope.

“That’s it,” Daisy says relieved.

He exhales shakily. His breath is still way to hectic, she thinks concerned.

“Breathe with me,” she tells him, demonstrating some deep and even breaths.

After a moment, he tries to match her breaths and his look gets more focused. “Daisy,” he mumbles suddenly, looking around, blinking. “Daisy … what … this is real, right?”

She swallows. “Yes. It is real, Fitz.”

He nods, his eyes dropping shut. He seems to be exhausted. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs barely audible.

“It’s alright,” Daisy tells him, although she doesn’t know what exactly he's referring to. She leaves her hand on his shoulder, hoping it gives him some comfort.

A moment passes in silence.

Daisy flinches when she hears Jemma’s panicked voice over her microphone. “Daisy? Are you alright? We couldn’t find you!”

Daisy hurries to answer. “I'm fine, Jemma. But, um, Fitz was hurt and had a panic attack. I think he’s quite groggy. Can you come and get us?”

“Don’t move. I’ll be there in a second,” Jemma says, her voice strained now. 

“Yeah, well, I really don’t feel like moving at all,” Daisy mumbles to herself, dropping the microphone. She shifts to sit beside Fitz, leaning against the wall with a tired sigh. She watches him breathing and waits for the others to pick them up at last.   

*

“Are you alright?” May asks later, when they are sitting in the cockpit, handing Daisy a water bottle.

Daisy takes it gratefully, taking a few sips. She licks her cracked lips, shaking her head. “No,” she says. “I’m not. This … I don’t know how to do this anymore. Too many memories.” She shudders.

“You need a break,” May says calmly. “That’s okay, you know. We all need one from time to time. And you shouldn't feel like you can't tell us when you do.”

“I know,” Daisy mumbles. She looks down at her hands, which are playing with a pebble. She saved it from the night she spent at the lake. The night when Fitz and her talked to each other for the first time in weeks. She sighs.

*

“How is he?”  Daisy asks Jemma nervously.

“He has a cracked rib and a few bruises, and he’s exhausted, but otherwise he’s fine,” Jemma says. She smiles at Daisy. “And you were amazing helping him through that panic attack, Daisy. You did everything right.”

Daisy swallows. “I’m glad he’s okay,” she mumbles.

Jemma looks at her knowingly. “Do you want to see him?” She asks.

Daisy hesitates. She fidgets with the pebble in her hands again. But finally, she nods carefully.

*

Fitz sits upright in his bed, a bandage around his bare chest. He stares at his hands on the blanket with an unreadable look on his face.

Daisy stops in front of the bed, swallowing nervously. “Hey,” she says, smiling faintly.

Fitz flinches slightly. He turns his head to look at her and blinks. “Hey,” he answers quietly.  

“Um. Thanks for saving my life,” Daisy says.

Fitz’s eyes darken. He shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t know if that was _me_ ,” he says, looking down at his hands again. “That thing I did … disarming that military trained man? It was something _he_ … um … that was something The Doctor learned, I guess.” He shudders. “I don’t want to be like him,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to … to hurt someone who is important to me.” He looks at Daisy again. “Someone like you.”

Daisy bites her lip. She closes her hand around the warm pebble firmly. Then she shakes her head. “It was you. Fitz. You saved me. Listen … I know that what you’re dealing with right now is dark and terrifying. Somehow The Doctor became a part of you and it’s scaring you. But today … you used it for a good thing, you understand? And that’s okay. You can use it, like I used my new scary powers back then. Changes don't have to control you,” she says carefully.

He looks up at her, his eyes filling with uncertainty. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” he tells her. “I don’t know if I can … look at it that way.”

She smiles at him. “Are you kidding? You’re one of the strongest people I know. Being strong doesn’t always mean being able to knock the bad guys down. It also means to stay a good man, no matter what. And you are, Fitz. You are a good man. Bad things happened to you, but you’re still this good man. My friend. And I’m glad that you’re here. I’m … I’m glad I didn’t lose you. What happened to us, it changed us, and it won’t stop hurting. Never. But … we can take our time now, to find a way to deal with it. To find some good things in all this mess.  
We can work on being okay again together.”

She lays her pebble on his night drawer.

Fitz looks at it. Slowly, a smile starts to spread on his face. “Thank you, Daisy,” he whispers.

 

It’s a start. Like pebbles being thrown into their life.


	29. Broken (One Shot, May & Team)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When May returns to the base, everything is a mess. Her family is damaged in a way she never thought possible. She starts to pick up the pieces ... (Post s5e14, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, May & Team)

May is back but no one is there to notice it.

Everything’s too quiet. It’s the kind of heavy silence, that follows a disasaster, she knows.

Something happened, May thinks, while she’s walking through the hallways of the Lighthouse, searching for her team.

Something happened.

Her skin tingles in alarm.

 

*

 

The first one she meets, is Mack.

“Mack. What happened?” She asks him bluntly.

He looks at her, surprised and tired. “Oh. You’re back.”

May frowns. “What happened?” She asks again. With every second, she feels more alarmed. Did someone die? If someone died …

“Fitz,” Mack says barely audible. It sounds disbelieving.

“Fitz?” May’s stomach drops. No. It can’t be … “What happened to him?”

She dreads the answer. She can’t believe it when she finally hears it.

“He … we don’t know exactly what happened. He somehow … snapped?” Mack tells her, shifting his weight. May notices his leg is hurt. The next moment, she knows the reason for his wound. She feels numb. What Mack tells her sounds absurd. Fitz programming a robot that hurts Deke? That holds Jemma at gunpoint? What …

The next thing she hears, breaks her heart in a quiet, unspectacular but painful way.

“He hurt Daisy, May. Bound her to a table and, and … cut into her with a damn scalpel, to, to remove the inhibitor.” Mack looks slightly sick now and nervously wipes his sweaty face.

“Daisy,” May says tonelessly.

Mack looks away. His hand strokes over the bandage that covers the wound on his leg.

May turns abruptly and quickly walks towards Daisy’s room.

  
*

  
When she enters Daisy’s room, she knows instinctively that it’s all true. It’s not some kind of nightmare. It really happened.

Daisy is laying on the bed on her stomach, her face hidden in the pillows. There’s a bandage around her head.

May walks towards her, feeling numb. She carefully lays a hand on Daisy’s shoulder.

Daisy flinches and turns around abruptly, raising a shaking hand, ready to quake whoever touched her against the wall. She gasps, when she sees May in front of her, and lowers her hand.

“Hey,” May says softly. “It’s me.”

Daisy stares up at her. “May,” she whispers.

May tries to smile at her. She sits down on the edge of the bed, her hand still on Daisy’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?” She asks.

Daisy swallows. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “I don’t know …” She exhales, and it sounds like a sob. Her eyes quickly fill with tears.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” May says softly.

Daisy shakes her head. “I don’t … why … he … I …,” she stammers helplessly, searching for words and only finding pieces of the questions in her mind.

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t try to search for reasons. Let the pain out first,” May tells her seriously.

Daisy obeys. She hides her face in both hands and weeps, while May strokes her shoulder.

 

*

 

The next one May visits is Jemma.

She knocks at the door of her room before she enters it.  

But there’s no reaction.

  
When May comes into the room, she sees Jemma sitting upright on the bed, her eyes staring into the void. She looks extremely exhausted. There are dark circles under her eyes. She's chewing on her lip. Deke is laying beside her, fast asleep.

"Simmons," May says calmly.

Jemma flinches slightly, finally turning her head to look at May. “May,” she says. Her voice sounds numb, but also relieved. “You’re back.”

May nods. She sits down on the bed beside Jemma carefully. “How are you feeling?” She asks the younger woman.

Jemma smiles weakly. “I would say _fine_ , because I don’t want you to worry. But today, I just can’t pretend. I’m feeling utterly awful. I'm trying to understand it but I can’t. I'm trying to find an explanation, and it only leads me to questions like, why I didn’t notice something earlier  … Because there had to be signs, right? There …,” she stops, shaking her head helplessly. “I love him,” she whispers with tears in her eyes. “I love him and … he’s so far away right now. And alone … I can’t stand it. But I also can’t see him. Not now. And that makes me feel like a horrible person …”

“You’re not,” May tells her seriously. “You’re allowed to think of yourself right now. You’re hurt and confused. It’s no use trying to find any explanations for this now. Just do, what you need to do, to feel less awful. Cry to let the pain out. Scream if you have to. Sleep for a while. Eat something healthy. Take care of yourself, alright?”

“Okay,” Jemma breathes. “I’ll try …”

  
*

  
May meditates before she goes to see Fitz.

She’s in a dangerous mood. Too agitated. She would maybe run right into his cell, grab him by his collar and shake him. Scream at him. And she can’t do that. That isn’t the right way.

So she meditates for a while, and then, when she feels ready for it, she goes to him.

Fitz sits on the bed, his head lowered and his hands folded in his lap. He looks small and defeated.

When May lets herself into the room, he raises his head surprised, his eyes widening. “May …” He looks and sounds fearful.

May stops in front of him and crosses her arms over her chest

They stare at each other for a moment.

She involuntarily tries to see it in his eyes. Tries to see the part of him, that would do such a thing to Daisy. But all she sees is pain and fear and sadness. “How are you feeling?” She asks him.

He blinks up at her. The question seems to surprise him. Finally, he shrugs and lowers his head to avoid her gaze.

“Answer me, Fitz,” May says sharply and he flinches. “That’s the least you can do right now …” _After you cut into my girl and traumatized her even more_ _than she already is_ , she thinks and quickly pushes the upcoming anger aside. She has to stay calm and clear. This happened because of a reason. She wants to know _why_.

She glares down at Fitz and he sighs. “Fine,” he says in a tight tone. One of his hands clenches into a fist. “Fine … I feel like I’m going insane. Since I spent six months in isolation, I hear the voice of The Doctor. It got louder the last days, when I was trying to fix the problem and didn’t sleep a lot. I saw him once. In, um, person. He talked to me.” Fitz shivers.

May frowns. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” She asks.

Fitz snorts. “It didn’t matter, did it? The world is going under and we have to save it. That’s the job. That’s … what we do.”

May’s not sure how to feel. That Fitz didn’t think he could tell anyone about his problems actually feels like a punch into her guts. She thought they are more than just a team working on a solution for a problem. “What happened?” She urges him on.

Fitz swallows. “I … I don’t know. Something felt off. I felt like I’m falling asleep. But … but I wasn’t asleep. I was doing things … horrible things. I can’t really remember them. It’s like I'm trying to look through thick fog. But I remember how I suddenly came to me, holding a scalpel in my hand and looking at Daisy who was begging me to stop, to …”  
He stops, hiding his face in both hands. “I’m a monster,” he whispers and exhales shakily.

May breathes in deeply. “No,” she says quietly. “No, you’re not a monster. You’re mentally ill and pushed yourself too far. You suffered some kind of psychotic break, I guess. That doesn’t make you a monster …”

Fitz makes a frustrated noise. “I know that I’m bloody ill, alright? I did research. In prison. I know that something’s wrong. I can feel it. But it doesn’t make this any better,” he mumbles. “Don’t you tell me too that it wasn’t me, that I’m not to blame, that …”

“I won’t,” May tells him. “I won’t tell you that. But I want you to know, that I don’t think, _this_ is a solution. You shouldn’t be alone down here. Not in your state …”

Fitz shrugs. “There’s no other way,” he mumbles. “I’m a danger to everyone.”

May raises an eyebrow. “You really think you’re a danger to _me_?” She asks dryly.

Fitz smiles weakly. But then, he sighs and shakes his head. “It’s alright, May. Really. I think I, um, might be able to actually sleep here. I’m alone, I can’t hurt anyone, and I can’t try to solve any problems from down here, so maybe my brain will allow me to find some rest.”

May frowns. “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?” She asks him.

Fitz looks at her for a moment and understands. He quickly shakes his head. “I’m not going to cause Jemma even more pain.”

“But you thought about it,” she says. It’s not a question. It’s a statement. They both know it.

“Yes,” Fitz nods. “I did.”

May suddenly feels very exhausted. Fitz admitting so open, that he thought about harming himself is just another sign for how messed up everything is. She has to leave. Has to clear her thoughts …

“Try to find some rest,” she tells Fitz sternly.

She turns around to leave the cell. But Fitz’s voice stops her.

“How is she, May? How is Daisy?”

She turns around to him. He looks at her with wide open, pleading eyes, nervously playing with his hands.

“You really want to know?” May asks, raising an eyebrow.

Fitz swallows. “Yes.”

“She’s in shock. She’s in a state between raging anger and denial,” May says bluntly.  

Fitz nods. He lowers his head in defeat. “She won’t ever forgive me,” he mumbles. “But it’s okay. It’s alright. I wouldn’t forgive myself either …”

May sighs. “I can’t speak for Daisy. And I can’t see into the future. I don’t know how things are going to be between you. But I know, that you’re both part of this team. I know, that I care about both of you. I want Daisy to be able to be as angry and sad as she needs to be. I want her to know, that it’s not her fault and that she’s not alone. And I want _you_ to get the help you need. You need medication for this, Fitz. And therapy. We’re going to get through this together somehow.” She looks at him sternly. “We’re going to find a solution, and we’re not going to leave someone behind. That’s who we are. That’s what we do too, you understand?”

Fitz still looks doubtful. But he nods. “Thanks, May,” he mumbles.

She throws a last glance at him and leaves with a heavy feeling of sadness and anger in her chest.

 

*

 

May goes back to Daisy’s room, after she made them some sandwiches.

Daisy first stares at the food puzzled, like she didn’t think at all about eating something, but the next moment her stomach grumbles loudly and she takes a sandwich with a sigh.

They eat in silence for a moment.

“I don’t hate him,” Daisy suddenly says, looking at May seriously. “I don’t hate him, you know, but … I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

“You don’t have to,” May says. “You have to focus on yourself now. You have every right to be angry and sad. I’m here to help you. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

“Okay,” Daisy breathes. She carefully leans against May, who allows it, putting the plate with the sandwiches away on the nightstand.  
After a moment, she feels how Daisy lays her head on her shoulder and she raises a hand to stroke through Daisy’s hair, careful to avoid the place where she was hurt.

 _This is a mess_ , she thinks.

She can only hope, their team, their _family_ , is strong enough to get through it.


	30. Thankful (Mack & Fitz / One Shot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mack comforts Fitz after a nightmare. (Early Season Two)

Mack wakes up abruptly. He blinks into the void, his mind blank. There’s a vague noise reverberating in the back of his mind. Something like a scream. But … has it been real or just something out of his quite messy and incoherent dreams?

He wipes over his face sighing and throws a look at the digital watch on the nightstand. 5 am. He knows himself well enough to figure he won’t be able to fall asleep again. Well. That means he has more time for his project in the …

The next second someone screams and Mack flinches violently. It’s a high-pitched shriek full of terror, followed by a breathless “No!”, sounding so desperate and pleading that Mack’s stomach cramps.

He sighs. So it hasn’t just been his imagination …  

Mack gets up too quick the room momentarily swaying around him. He hastens out of his bunk and through the hallway. To his right, another door opens and Hunter glances out, his eyes glassy and his face pale from sleep. There’s a gun dangling loosely from his right hand. “Are we attacked?” He slurs drowsily.

“It’s Fitz. I got this,” Mack says quietly.

“Oh.” Hunter grimaces in sympathy and rubs the back of his head with the handle of his gun. “Bloody hell … It’s bad this week, isn’t it? Must be the third night in a row.”

Mack sighs. “Yeah. I’m going to check on him."

Hunter nods. He yawns and disappears back into his room.  

Mack knocks once, twice on the door to Fitz’s bunk and gets no answer in return. It’s dead silent on the other side. “Fitz? I’m coming in,” he says concerned and opens the door.

As usual the bedside lamp is switched on. Mack figures Fitz doesn’t like to be in the dark. Not since he has been on the bottom of the ocean. The dim light throws huge intimidating shadows on the walls and Mack lets his gaze wander through the room.

The bed is a mess. The crumpled sheets and the tangled blanket are telling a whole silent story. There are several pill bottles laying around on the floor, surrounded by books and a few pieces of paper with blurry sketches on them.

Fitz is a huddled heap in a corner of the room, his knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around his thin body. He’s trembling violently. His breaths come in short, hectic gasps. His blue eyes are unfocused. He looks like he’s far away. Somewhere scary and hopeless.

Mack crouches down in front of him, taking care he isn’t too close. Last time he was. Last time Fitz lunged out in his panic and landed a quite painful punch on Mack’s nose. So this time, he keeps his distance and clears his throat quietly to make Fitz aware of his presence. “Hey Turbo,” he says, trying out a calm smile. “Are you alright?”

Fitz flinches. His eyes switch to Mack’s face and stick there. They widen slightly. “Mack,” he says. It sounds uncertain. And surprised.

Mack nods. “Yeah, it’s me. Just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”  

“Alright,” Fitz echoes and grabs his bad hand squeezing it firmly. “Al … yeah. I am. Uh. I am …” He frowns and stares into the void for a moment, his mouth open. “Night, uh … Bad … Bad dream,” he says then and shrugs. But suddenly, he shivers and his eyes fill with a combination of fear and guilt. “I … I woke you up. Everyone … “ Fitz groans. “I’m sorry … _Sorry_.”

Mack shakes his head. “There’s nothing you have to be sorry for. You had a nightmare. We all have them from time to time.”

Fitz doesn’t say anything. His eyes wander over the floor, from pill bottles to papers and books. He's worrying his lip.

After a silent moment, Mack carefully moves to sit beside Fitz, leaning his back against the cool wall behind them. He stretches out his legs and sighs. Beside him, Fitz is still trembling like a leaf. Mack sees how tightly he’s gripping his own hand. He leaves angry red stripes on the pale skin.

“Bad one, huh?” He asks carefully.

Fitz nods and shudders.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Fitz shakes his head. “It’s … I can’t … when I remember, I can’t …” He points at his throat and makes a desperate choked noise.

“Breathe?” Mack asks quietly.

“Yeah. That.” Fitz makes a vague hand gesture and shivers again. He finally lets go off his sore hand, gripping his knee instead. He takes a few deep shuddering breaths and presses his eyes shut. There’s sweat on his forehead.

Mack can only vaguely imagine what he’s seeing. Darkness everywhere. Shadows of moving water on pale walls. A prison underwater and an unreachable surface somewhere above.

Mack doesn’t know every detail about what had happened to Fitz, but he knows enough. Enough to know Fitz is traumatized. He heard from the others how much Fitz had changed since he woke up from a nine days coma, weakened and unable to form sentences. He has been struggling with his body not cooperating, with seizures and migraines. He still has to do speech and physical therapy. And of course, he has to deal with the reactions of the people around him.

Still, over the quite short amount of time Mack has been known him, Fitz managed to get from his hospital bed into a wheelchair and finally onto his own feet, only needing the help of crutches sometimes. Also, he got back into his lab, trying to continue his work, instead of hiding in his bunk and drowning in depression.

Fitz often seems to think he’s weak and useless now. Mack thinks he’s the strongest person he’s ever met.

But right now, this incredibly strong person is scared and still caught in the clutches of his nightmare. Fitz is now pulling at his hair and makes distressed noises. His eyes start to get glassy again. It’s like he’s slipping back into the world of his bad dream.

“Okay,” Mack says quickly. He grabs Fitz’s wrists and gently pries his hands away from his curls. Fitz allows it, looking aside in shame. “No talking. What about some distraction then? It’s the middle of the night. Everyone else is sleeping. We could play some Xbox and eat crisps or popcorn without Daisy and Hunter constantly trying to steal it.”

Fitz looks up at him doubtfully. “What … _Now_?”

“Sure. Why not.”

Fitz bites his lip. “But … you … you must be tired.”

“It’s almost morning. I’m an early riser. Have always been one.”

Fitz tilts his head to the side and frowns. He looks like he’s thinking very hard. Mack almost fears he will act like he did the last few times. Saying he’ll be fine, and Mack shouldn’t bother. But then Fitz says, “Okay” very quietly and tries to get up. However, his legs give way underneath him and he topples back on the floor with a dull thud.

Mack swallows.

Fitz takes a deep breath, clenching his hands into fists. He looks at his legs with a grim expression in his eyes and shakes his head. “Could you …,” he says, pointing at the pair of crutches leaning against a chair.

“Of course.” Mack hands them to Fitz, watching how he uses them to heave his body up.

“Okay,” Fitz says when he’s standing on his feet steadily and nods at Mack. He walks out of the bunk surprisingly quick, his face contorted in determined concentration.

Mack smiles and follows him.

 

They go to the small secluded area at the base, that serves the agents as some kind of comfort zone from time to time.

Fitz immediately drops on the couch, breathing heavily.

Mack searches around in the kitchen. He finds several packs of crisps _and_ popcorn. He shrugs and mixes both inside a bowl. It’s not the healthiest early breakfast but well. Right now, healthy isn’t what they need.

He goes to Fitz and puts the bowl on the little table. Then he gets the controllers and switches the console on. “Zombies or snipers?” He asks Fitz who shrugs, already throwing a handful of the popcorn-crisps-mix inside his mouth. His eyes are already a shade lighter.

“You … you can pick.”

Mack hums. “Zombies it is then,” he murmurs and hands Fitz a controller.

 

They play in comfortable silence for a while. Time passes around them and night changes into day. Sometime, Daisy comes into the room, searching for milk. She throws them a smile and gives Mack a thumbs up Fitz doesn’t see. He smiles back at her.

After Mack tragically dies and Fitz has to shoot his way through a zombie army alone, he throws the controller away and sighs, leaning back against the cushions. He yawns. Mack smiles. “You want to take a nap?”

Fitz yawns again and nods, but he looks nervous. Mack can imagine he’s thinking back to the nightmare. “It’s alright. I’m staying. Doing a few single rounds. I really have to get better at shooting zombies if I want to keep up with you,” he says reassuringly.  

Fitz still tries to stay awake. But after he's been watching Mack playing for a while, he closes his eyes and his body relaxes. He falls asleep quickly. Mack continues playing, eats the rest of their popcorn-crisps-mix and listens to Fitz’s soft even breaths. He had worse mornings.

 

Much later, when the whole team is up and the base is the usual busy place again, Fitz awakes. He appears a bit disoriented first looking around confused. But when his eyes fall on Mack, he seems to remember. Mack smiles at him and Fitz flushes, running a hand through his touseled hair. He murmurs something barely audible but Mack makes out that he wants to go back to his bunk, to change into something more decent than his pyjamas.

Before he leaves the room, he clears his throat and softly asks, “Mack?”

“Yeah, Turbo?”

“Thanks.” Fitz doesn’t add more. It’s just that single word. But there's a lot of meaning in it.

Mack smiles. “Of course. That’s what friends are for.”

Fitz draws in a shaky breath and nods. Then, he turns around and walks away slowly, leaning on one of his crutches. Mack watches after him until he disappears around a corner.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker and always grateful for being corrected! I'm constantly trying to improve my English, so please don't hesitate to tell me about mistakes. <3
> 
> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


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